This is a song about "We are suffering of war"

That man there throw wale on the shelf and i lose

Now we are running rap, so fuck all of you tools

In that case we can paint the art of war with your esophagus

And we way too young to know love, maybe not but we don't need no rush

Just because of who we are,

I'm a fucking rap star

Cause suffering to all of the others

Ybm and emp it's like we brothers

But i did have miss medusa, she loud and she leave me stoned

My sting has a suffering throb i dream and hope of win ning the gold

She just let me beat and you an acapella kind fella

As you are suffering i will usher in, a new era

Or classic misdirection it's a collection of weapons of war

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

P.s eh i ain't trying to nit pick

The final war of the whack and sick