This is a song about "The feds"

Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense

On top of me the feds, economy's poverty, gotta be the heads,

It's like you were afraid of feds or loose threads

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

I want to imbed widespread led towards the feds leave you uneasy, queasy but

Now this counselor is trying to tell me that i'm emo, she don't give a fuck

The feds got- their heads chopped,

February cold as my heart

Feds on my ass niggas steady tripping

‘cause he could die any day and you still the same thing

The feds don't even care if im alive or resting peacefully

Now you stuck up in my mothafucking basement all bloody

Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense

Changing our ways to coincide with feds,

I'm duckin' the feds, touchin' the bread, and hopefully, faithfully,

To him, nothing is funnymind set on one thing, making his money