This is a song about "Trade"

So play this shit while you contemplate, contemplate, contemplate

This is my sixth crusade, handing out hand grenades on every single slave trade,

Of that trade off, my dicks a plane bout to take off

My self esteem was like me, tall and full of flaws

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

And if money wasnt there love could always be that one fair trade to share

Blind fucking hate inside my heart, guaranteed

I wouldn't trade you for the world, you're all that i need.

Let em marinate, you forever late

Time to get paid, blow up like the world trade

Collection of freestyles that i just want to make

If there was someway they could benefit from the trade

No need to decode, but yeah sometimes the truth blows and you trade blows

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close