This is a song about "Zax of the prax"

You little young-ass motherfuckers

Shaved of the face of the earth

Raybands...hide the face of,

Thought this was forever love

The disease of the wordsmith hidden inside of the mist

Her mom died, heroin overdose stuffed in her wrist

Real slow yea i'll make you feel special

The right hand of god, the left of the devil,

Rack city, rack city she need a shovel

Tired of the pain tired of the struggle

It's pie in the sky and there's bodies on the cement

Coz the money of is in the hands of the president

I say i put it so deep now she a cone head

Beat of the drum soon the rhythm of the dead.