This is a song about "Your dad mollesting the creator of this webpage"

You could see in the faces of me, michael, my dad, anyone... my brother.

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

All because she said no to homecoming, demons running

I'l blind you from the sight of me, to your side of me this hell i bring

No evidence of what dad did to her, she cleaned up the blood stain

And i move across your membrane, you loose against my insane

Niggas, little niggas doing it big, know what i'm saying, y'all niggas 40 and shit still in the game

Forget not amir the creator, who can plant a fear like a gator we all in your train

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

A stain on the mattress, so your dad is your mums brother

I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows

I'm the creator of cooking people til they're thick and crispy like baked potatoes.

Your dad was nothing but a heavy dipper

So bitch watch your mouth, and wash them dishes after dinner