This is a song about "The position or period of office of a protector"

Whether its a bong or a joint ill be draining it of contents, like im in the projects,

I don't give two shits and when i do make it you won't even get my two cents

Its either a bless or a curse, i cleanse the weak with a breath of my verbs

Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works

A technician of incisions in the position

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was

Smoking weed, getting head in the oval office

I will die of overdoesing, or a bullet through the head

You know they at home watching lifetime or on the internet

Hey, don't do anything that i say in this song, okay? it's fuckin' fiction

Attention attention, theres a way of getting to first position,

Or he should of been a little quicker

She got mad i leaned over, i'm nursing her

Or had a new set of beliefs, what would the difference be?

Wish you was around now to see what i've become see