This is a song about "Throwing stones in a glass house"

Me and my microphone could be one

Shit, six bitches in a crack-house kitchen

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

The flow cold as a shoulder of a gold diggin hoes

But i feel my transformation gon' smash the entire game

Liven in a house made out of mud dirt and rain

In my mind throwing spears, and god knows,

Wayne told me that and that's just how it goes

I step up in the spot, they get to working hard

Maybe a shot in the heart glass edges in veins so sharp,

Live in a big house , shit they even own a chopper.

All this flow that i give em, i live by the code and i'll leave her

All these grave stones kept in clean little rows,

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows

Chasing for the wind but you never win the track meet

You want a big house cz your living in the street