This is a song about "Thinking of ice on mars"

I got a dollar and a dream, real niggas on my team

And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream.

I only got one rule, no kissing

Sitting on the toilet thinking,

Definition of cold: ice, 30 below

It’s so hard and its so an this marvelous flow

Make a mess outta tracks, got my hat back

Thinking of how to get on track

I'm tired of rappers thinking they're on a higher level

I got nothing against them, they got fucking potential

If i give a fuck, it's probably from my dick

And i be on point like a mutha fucking ice pick

In this cracked crack fag back slab in disguise

Home invading i'm skating on thin ice,

I can get straight to the cash

With shards of ice and glass