This is a song about "The huns are deid"

But, who is to blame when we let them in on everything

The closet shelves are squeaking, the skeletons are peaking

But most dads are the same, while most moms are unique. (x2)

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

Slumdog far apart any sub par

Can't tell which direction the police are..

And the chances are slim

Wayne scorching, i'll applaud him

Tell em their ambitions then we need some more of them

You won't see tims and huns bouncing to one rhythm

That the villains are pulling in

This boa, what's your motivation

Niggas die over shoes

These are lessons in the booth//

Their remains are feeding the rodents

Pullin' up in trucks, carried off in a bus