This is a song about "Your disew"

A good head on her shoulders, i need to feel that

Your lyres are cheat so hold your pen open your book-let

Your on fire.. your on fire

"contemplate", i wrote about her

Convertibles with turbo jets

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

I'm fittin' shit, your hatin' it, your littleness, your genitals.

Out in the district they selling water and buying pistols

Sky high, iced out paradise

Fuck your prison, fuck your life

Not dc, this whole fuckin' genre

Leave your running to your mamma,

Don’t want nothing from a nigga; he all kinds of lame

Im coming threw your hood taking your soverigns and your chain