This is a song about "Whats the season"

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

Into the evening and it leaves them sneezing, every season

I guess it's that time of the season

Girls fast how jamaicans run

There's hard work to be done during the season of inundation

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

His wifey fuck with me and really he don't understand

Every single season i just feel the wrath of over blast

Busta-ass motherfuckers tried to flee

So whats the moral of this story?

I dont whats worse the trolls, the spammers or the lyrical slackers

And only cheat on my broad if i run out of answers

Rhyming over reason, is the season, its my philosophy

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

Zero options to choose

You cant grab on whats on the news