This is a song about "To and fro"

'til a stray bullet got his lungs struck

And you sick to your stomach

Raised by a momma who, who

And look what rap's reduced to:

Leaving rappers disordered, that explains the toe you grow in your fro

Apparentally it make you argue morethe more things you throw

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

And speak to suburban kids

Carmines and aquas, to add to my collection

Bitch i got my swag card, natural protection

And nobody talks to him and nobody tries

Let me enter your life, lady we can spill our rice

I need a little room

Insight to light and i zoom