This is a song about "War and pain"

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

This dick of war, and i will not hesitate

Yeah my shit ain't no scratch and win

From this pain and depression.

And i'll declare lyrical war, on this racist dumbass.

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

They say we living in troubled times

And the pain is what invites

War and slaughter, blood is gold, from dust to ashes/

I'm in new york now, like akeem and semmi was

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

Its the last prime to death, and we screaming out war

I never crack i got that chap stick

The final war of the whack and sick

Eighty percent of kids are listening to y'all shit

I started this war and im going to finish it