This is a song about "The preamble"

Or 5'2" hoopers in light shoes

I'm the nigga with the juice

In the face of the outside.

Aw man, it's been a ride

Dial the humidifier, arrange the amplifier/

Goadome nikes, the cortazone of the poem writer

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

And a nigga have ‘em beefin’ on who gon' twist up my new growth

If you had, one shot

From the bottom to the top

Something like rihanna while i’m up in that vagina

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

The realist in the game

Parking lot of the blue flame