This is a song about "Wooden clogs"

But he push them whites in the hood like ray edmond was there

I can finally rest in piece and sit in my wooden chair.

But my vision has inclined to some interscope, and its home

But a pole position you couldn't hold, not even your own wooden bone

I'm working while they sleeping, so staying's not an option

Rotting in a graveyard garden, six feet deep in your wooden coffin

Roll it up and ensure that everything's fat

My realm is shillack, my wooden floor's got a crack