This is a song about "The death of a child"

The certainty of death is gradually increasing,

Escobar season begins, so let the semis ring

I gave ya girl a t-shirt since she gave the whole crew neck

Every man woman and child, dead, from a shot to the head,

The freshness of my breath bring your death

I can taste the salt from my tears

And i'm still considered a child

For that paper, i'mma grind

Death//i keep you smoking more than a spoon of meth//the only way you don't

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

I treat bitches straight up, like simon says

I'll hang you on a hook near the brink of death

In a cycle of death i'm killing gyros

Give me black bitches, white hoes, new clothes

When i was a child out of all my peers i was the one with no advantage

Well give me grab iti was born inside a love zonewith a glock-nine young marriage