This is a song about "Wetback spicks cross country border patrol"

Get backpack 'n ya gear on, time to cross the border.

I can do that to a nigga and make a pool on her

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

“alright man, i’ll take you to the border”

Hustle for dis country money

Almost lost my life to the industry

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

Somebody call the coroner, cuz bitch i'm on the border

Be peddling on bikes to the border flipping bitches like a quarter

Oughta eat the bitch with salt and wash it down with a gallon of water

But when i fuckin' go, lucifer will probably have my soul

But since then i've fucking murdered every artist on patrol!

Infatuations border the need for mental evaluation

My nigga rozay put me on the tour cus i amuse him