This is a song about "Youth pastor"

‘cuz being honest and moral doesn’t sell to the mindless youth,

Niggas mostly assume, niggas make up they news

Before i'm gone, the secrets are not told to the youth,

Got her the bently coup, she call that old news

You ain't gotta worry no more

Mischief youth spent bored trying to score

On the ceiling after a boob shoot of the milf of my pastor

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

See you later, cause baby i'm a player, and all i heard was

Feeling like a pastor on the road back from damascus

Keep her there, so nobody can wonder where her face went

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed

Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, grey goose

Mushrooms, a plume to pollute the youth

A photographic memory, i'm never gonna lose

And say it in a rhyme for the future of our youth,