This is a song about "The colonist"

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

Hell yeahwould you kill for me nigga?on my grandmother, nigga

It's ironic they call me a fresh breath no joke

Here's the answer and the antidote:

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

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

And i would never walk in the shadow that never was really there

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

Once as a slave who imagined being free

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

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

To win today would just seem like a lavish dream

Still the man with the pan

It's the wolf gang, wolf gang