This is a song about "Ya dead nan"

They infiltrate our homes, africa

Living dead sees ya, comin for your flesh he's the

In the back trunk, half dead ya lay

Im on, im on tha way

My god come before this bread

Now you wish i was dead,

Cop me air ones, hon, lime and red

Killin the competition, leaving it dead

Kill in a movie sketch pay up or ya dead

Dutty wine for access, show me your neck

You all should be fukn dead

Probably die getting some head

Leave u dead and ya boys lookin for u movin wit the clouds/

I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds

Journeyman with no fans. i'm the boogeyman, spearing your nan,

Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man