This is a song about "Their"

While pleading with their god asking if it is their time

Hardest spittin’ mothafucka this side of the line

Their father loosen their life

... club, we'll be actin' real nice

Regular girl, celebrity dreams

All their shit sucks-their flow,their rhymes,their beats

I'm optimistic like playing keeno with all that you got

As they clot their arteries, remedies from their enemies rough spot/

Their topics are weak and their rhymes are whack,

I had the british shows talkin bout bring him back

Complex are their theories and their views, the metal speaks,

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

Where fiends always on that water like a lily pad

In their penthouse suite, where they spend their days getting fat

Observin' their plat flows, viewin' their bars, their psych, givin me methods//

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks