This is a song about "They all are lier"

I enjoy my time wondering, why things are why they are

We can count the stars on the hood in your father's car

They believe that they are the over-lords

We come through throbbing like thunder storms

I'm a fucking rap star

Blessed to be who they are

I’m a factor and your facial

They are signed in a label,

Young peyton don't huddle, still run my play

Now they are just all gone blown away

They are all good like the best bowl of porridge.

Rex ryan on these hoes, jet life forever bitch

And you can underrate me, but i know what i'm worth

These politicians are all held on they collars