This is a song about "Working saftey"

Cuz the way her eyes glance like they playing in my pants

The saftey man had it wrong when said youre in good hands

I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets these niggas cease

Certainly working on personal courtesies

So i parked in a tow-away zone

Dad working so hard, mind overblown

I pop one, you pop one

Not working. shot, choking, broken.

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king

Y'all write hateful lyrics and put 'em in concerts working,

I'm working on four dimensions

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

When they showed up at your door at christmas

Working for an nonpaying business.

Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring

I used to turn to churches for help but it wasn't working,