This is a song about "Urban terms"

Pictures of me in my final stage you know mama cried

Yo, this music’s disrespected by those who caused the urban flight,

Don't call it a comeback, i been here for years

You don't know what half this means let me put it in dumb terms

And reminds us that the mixture of guns and puns is too urban and street

But if you're not dying don't fucking bother to call me back, i'm sleep

Talking of the gods you serve

Terms, crushing worms, my burning heart yearns/

I run circles round these niggas' world like saturn

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

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

To speak from the soul and just leave it with them

Coming to terms, where we can agree

That bitch bad, looking like a bag of money