This is a song about "The grinf"

Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger

Put the lotion on the skin, in the acid, in the gutter,

Here's the answer and the antidote:

Shit grand like a muh-fucking bass load

Top ranked, number one my son

The bigger the the fun

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

Once as a slave who imagined being free

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

If you was, i would climb every other stair, i gotta stare

Like as if i didn’t know man

Still the man with the pan

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Yeahehehehe nigga, we be the ballin player-ass nigga

My time with their half-witted reviews

Saw the bombs on the news