This is a song about "Your rubbish"

Whenever your blazing

Money ain't a thing

Leave your running to your mamma,

Not dc, this whole fuckin' genre

Stop it, i'm hearin' the comments

Your family, your friends,

Fuck your bars, fuck your demons,

I’m so fly i don’t even got wings

Of your image, your touch, your laugh

But i let off everything i have

Blood stain, your slain, your brain

Now that's what you call a game

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

A coward dies a thousand deaths