This is a song about "Your gir"

J. cole's her ghost writer

Your on fire.. your on fire

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

Conjure your fears kill your parents become your foster

Out in the district they selling water and buying pistols

That's your soul along with your principles and your morals

Im coming threw your hood taking your soverigns and your chain

Who do you blame? it's a shame because the man's slain

Your eyes it's my paradise, your

I've been so thorough, that's what i boast for

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

And all we lack is communication like service sucks