This is a song about "Ya mam"

Dont make me tomahawk ya,

I ain't, mad, at cha

I let that choppa intersect ya

They infiltrate our homes, africa

The real deal ya know ya gotta wait

The proverbial lemonade that i made

You trying hard to maintain, then go headcause i ain't mad at cha

Fantastics, grandmasters attending funerals past ya

Lyrically or physically, step to me, you rest in peace

Ya full of ya self, get ya cock out ya mouth before ya jump in this beef

The whole rapper thing aren't ya

They claim it as their own, africa

Is written in our souls, africa

But do ya know what fuck ya!