This is a song about "The slums"

My buzz is like cocaine

The realist in the game

As: can’t wait to pork your mom

The weed into the bong

Guess i’m different than most

The more battles the better the flows

I gotta know if it's real or not

From the bottom to the top

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

Back to the slums packed with psycho savages and thugs

The master of this rap shit

Got the passion for the music

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

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

The replacement of the word "mother"

A metaphor, for the insecure