This is a song about "Table salt"

Wake up six hours later naked on the table

I'm stuck in triangles, looking for my angel

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

Shout out to you shit talkers at my lunch table

I'm just grateful there's a roof and food on the table

To make karma come faster than she normally will

Why these broads hear my late call, start rushin' over runnin' lights

To all the painful wounds i salt on all the victims of my crimes,

Throw some salt and alcohol on that wound to make it safer

So i told her i got something you've been waiting for

I'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

I can make music that makes sense, but not meant to be stable

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table

Spreadin' shit like salt shakers, on you stone cold fakers,

George bush got some nerve, fuck a war, we trying to serve