This is a song about "A"

A menace to a microphone, a lethal weapon

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

Oh what a cold world for a broke nigga--it's bitter

They call you a whore, a bitch, a ho, and a stripper,

Put burners in the hands, of the black man

You're a disaster a sham,

Where the black girls get their weaves back

What a bummer, what a drag

Influences are a dime a dozen

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

Its gonna be a a test

Might as well get it off yo’ chest

Like a bird without a cage

I'm autumn leaves change