A spoken-word performer delivers rapid-fire bars about street life, loyalty, and legacy. He boasts about underground methods and Project Panther, emphasizes money and style, and expresses a wish to be cremated with his ashes flowing in a river. The verse mixes bravado with reflection on mortality and those who've passed.
Wait a minute, get it how you live it. 10 toes in when we standing on business. I'm a big stepper, underground methods, dive nachos, get the most, not the lesser. Straight terror, product of your efforts, pushing culture, baby, got that product you can measure. Trendsetter, the one who get the weather, swerving while I bumping Project Panther. Yeah, rolling through the city with the big dogs, fuck the laws, loyal with me, we ain't got a cow. Zillion silent but the panic in the pillow loud. That's how you make the money pop for everyone involved, and if you don't deserve cut them, we going to cut them off. My barber got me looking proper every single time. Fresh fade, getting faded on that top grade. No, you ain't walking out alive smoking where we on. And you know I got it for the ones who gone. RIP is in your memory, we carry on. When I die, they will not bury me, not what I want. Burn my body, pour my ashes in the river, y'all. That's how we knowing that the flow about to carry on. See, immortality is a fallacy, I prove them wrong. The Southern
