This is a song about "The rusty trombone"

Not relying on the light no more

I dropped the rusty blade on the floor.

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

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

Had to get my utmost feeted sleep cause

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

In the coupe with the tec, it's the home of the brave

Put expressions in their music and create the face

I don’t care where ya are

Rusty knife, i call it mater

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Hit yo ho with a muthafuckin baseball bat

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Hell yeahwould you kill for me nigga?on my grandmother, nigga