This is a song about "The decloration of indipendents"

A sight of her face can calm my rage even if the world's weight was hurled/

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,

I'll show you there's a few good left that exist

The disease of the wordsmith hidden inside of the mist

Rozay in effect, know how to make her wet

Beat of the drum soon the rhythm of the dead.

Huh, man of the year, the man of the... work!!!

No rubber sole, hardwood bastard

I'm a victim of the money, of the cash in the hundreds,

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

The right hand of god, the left of the devil,

See, there's a war going on and i'm the general

Take her back to where i live

Of the book of your life

The one who em talks of

I think found where your mind was