This is a song about "Vocal cords hurt"

I'm energize to the core, when they strain their vocal cords

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

Raps from my golden dome, hear it in vocal tones,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

Stress is building up, anxiety's in my vocal chords,

Spittin the vocal emission, with a musical transmission

And i got a girlfriend so i'm a keep lying until the verse end, fin

I'm a vocal mogul, i really don't know how to die

You can pick apart my raps, i ain’t told ya na’ lie

Wirting till my finger tips hurt

Its no days off, although i'm bored to work

Keep those rhymes tucked ‘fore somebody get hurt

And i can get em all without lots of effort