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

With canons hanging from our necks like it's a mothafuckin' circus

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

I be frontinand i'mma drink my hennessey like it ain't nothin

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

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

Help out a friend who's living with the rats and eating scraps

Clicquot for the girls in the tight dress

Give a mic the kiss of death

I always tell the truth even if it leads to my death

Like that's going to make up for the years and the tears

If you give up this battle, i might make it a fast death,

She glammed up behind that eyeliner i know there's tears

Talking about a friend, of a friend

For four hundred plus yearsyou should be scared

In need of a friend who takes the time to listen

Bet your bottom dollar before i'm done