This is a song about "Turtles and food"

Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son

He lives of food vendors and shelters, rendered by grouts that reckon,

Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate

And it's hard to pay, even with food stamps and medicaid,

Pockets morbidly obese, i'll be tourin for loot

Get my employees up on food stamps and work in fast food,

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

I'm just grateful there's a roof and food on the table

And pawn shops and thrift stores and food lion, nail it hard,

She bend it over, make that thing look like a work of art

Now y’all better leave me alone, got license for my chrome

With no food in your tummy and nobody to lend you a loan

Issue your warrant, informant, bitch i’ve been a boss

They'll turn you and flip you like your food and their tongs.

Bodyguard for what? dog, i'd rather shoot

And in this game you the gators' food