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

My records sell, yes sir

Yeah, they call me country grammar

New rolls royce, royce, yeah i'm all that

This country, black and white, its split

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

If its not couture, i will not go to her

I ain't superstitious i make all these broads split my pole

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

Swear they go hard

So don't cross 'cause it'll cost

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

And the life i live is hell see, i never thought i'd see

I got family spread out across the country

I'm pushing it for the corner

A country in power