This is a song about "The apocalyspe"

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

Get blown like lawn leaves

Thinkin of the the dreams

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave

In the coupe with the tec, it's the home of the brave

As the king upon the throne

Baby im in the zone

She ain't got a man

Still the man with the pan

Black fours red drop head doors

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

We all the same the blacks the whites the something in between

Got a pocket full of cream, my moccasin's clean