This is a song about "The catigorical imperative"

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, grey goose

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

Stay gold, alchemy, nigga we rap's alpha team

I say "stay", she wanna leave

As the tao converted the thief

Here they keep a rachet close

The more battles the better the flows

Where would i be without my dogs

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

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Yeahpour out a little liquor for your homies nigga

Ain't nothin funny, fuck a joke

Here's the answer and the antidote:

We just want you back at home

As the king upon the throne