This is a song about "The death if a friend"

I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze

The death that bloats like a disease

Clicquot for the girls in the tight dress

And i'm a hit'cha wit the blow of death

Educate yourselves, of africa

I'm a death reaper, words cannot express, see the

But oh i can’t stay away, not never, your my home, home, home

All the shit that his dealing on his own, if only he had a friend to phone

I'm a genuine dexter, i kill the time with death

Like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

Skin but you my friend look like as if someone peeled off a potato skin.

In need of a friend who takes the time to listen

I'm fed up, we gotta start teach the children

What a nervous purchase a death circuit i stick to the surface/

A lot of women from conversation could fall in love