This is a song about "Walking out on me"

So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin

When a company checks me out when i'm out on vacation/

I stay on the beat. like my converse walking the streets

Pack it up thirty minutes to the jet leaves

But put it in slow-mo, i don't want to bust the tape yet, press play

You didnt notice me looking so i kept walking out of the doorway

Walking in the centre, hit me and i mush like feta

My momma a og which makes me a don dada

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

We’re walking past the head on a silver plate

That's because thats these compton streets was built not to win

You could consider me a walking cremation

Walking on lonely long dangerous roads on nights he roamed

Unless your 'skin's winning, then i do it just to fucking boast