This is a song about "Vanisha"

With the wheels fallin off i shoot thru the windows make him crash into his mommas curtains

Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions

I'll confess i'm just rushin it, always feels like an emergency

Secret service insurgents observe me nervously

Personally purchase the hearse, attend the service

I'll imprison your loved ones in burning furnace