This is a song about "The selection"

The sequel to the first

I woke up screaming, fuck the world

If it wasn't bad enough your labels are hoeing you

"look at our selection we have a few"

Flyin’ through the city, all-black, bruce wayne

The realist in the game

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

And i can't help but stare, cause

Cocked the pistol, checked the pin

They gon love me for my ambition

Better or worse, the center of attention

Rap is my obsession got rhymes by the selection

Highest form of affection, physical connection

And there's never one decent mothafucking selection