This is a song about "Words of god"

Skeptical soldier, a man of few words,

You hear the words coming from my lips bastards

God of the underworld stunt

She got me caught up in the moment

No pork on the fork, but it’s white in the pot

Dale earnhardt of the trailer park, the white trash god

Lost of all words, forgetting its night,

You gotta make sure you aim right

Through prosperity of words

That try to chase these skirts

Perceive these words, the making of a legend

You wasn't fin' to dress all crazy no more and