This is a song about "The pied piper"

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

62 dreams, roll a date with some lean

I'm hatsheput, the king, the queen,

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

The vertex and the third eye

So y'all niggas can fly

Parking lot of the blue flame

The realist in the game

And my weed man should just sell flutes

The holy war, the spiritual troops

The bigger the the fun

Catch you up on places i've been

Got tickets peter piper

When it comes to spitting that fire