This is a song about "Urban terms"

Fuck the terms and the phrase, free is what i've chosen

Got a fuckin' blog that needs a post? i can get it done

In terms of propaganda this was an astronomical year

You see the way i move, i am in another gear

And there's little to be glad for

These fake words and vague terms written on paper,

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

With terms of release, bitches, money and yachts

Metaphorically speaking i'm alerting you of theoretical terms,

Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works

In the urban envrionemt of modern

Life live, might as well, only way to learn

Try to come to terms with the fact i'll never learn,

I killed my manager with an iron