This is a song about "The structure of the federal reserve"

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love

Enslavement until payment handed over by federal agents

I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years

We will reserve and act like waitresses, we'll take orders,

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free

Violence, crime, famine, lack of structure, poverty,

I say "stay", she wanna leave

Thinkin of the the dreams

Don’t you ever get too comfortable

Tired of the pain tired of the struggle

Indubitably i'm too street

Of the coke and the smoke of weed

My nigga kato, ready for whatever

Reporting a federal crime an act of terror

Reserve on the low low, haters disappeared and i ask where they go though.

But even when you leave, somehow it still try to follow