J Trauma - Fiction [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: J Trauma]
Fake bitches so weak, they like combustible elements
I'm harder than corundum, you pussies lookin so delicate
Talkin shit to me, I'll crush your whole skeleton
Haters so mad, they real salty and petulant
I say one word and make your girl wet as an ocean
You showin emotion, she likes me more cuz you're atrocious
I'm prettier than Flacko, making art like I'm Picasso
You rappers are nothing, eat y'all up like tacos
I've been it, your woman saw my dick, she beggin
I ripped her ass and nutted on her face, happy endin
Call me Ugly Mane, I send em to the essence
You wacker than Pakyed, my music is a blessin
Uh, I smoke about two dimes and get to business
Make your bitch twerk so much, she sweatin more than a gymnast
Make about a couple thou, that's my destiny
Rob you for your weaponry cuz that's my fuckin specialty
And I'm at my highest supremacy, I'm killing this beat intentionally, cuz I don't give a fuck bout actin respectfully
Not afraid to make new enemies, I'm chugging so much Hennessy, I wonder what's my current life expectancy
If she say no, I'll murder her fiance
She know I'm flyer than a V-22 Osprey
More connected than preteen bitches on Fun Run
The only time I ever give a shit is when the blunt's done
Uh, and you faggots know I run this
Keep my name out your mouth unless you like crutches
Fuck a passing math grade, only counting these hundreds
Stop talking shit to me, your breath smell like onions!
So does the gutbox, I'll just eat from my lunchbox
How you stink and expect me to get in between your buttocks?
Gunshots be louder than my white widow, every trait of me is like a magnet for these white bimbos
Blowin on that indo, jizz up in that bitch ho, if she gets pregnant imma throw her out the window
You gettin mad because I'm in your mama's playlist
Ion even know why you fuck boys try to deny that I'm the greatest
On your A-List, other pussies spitting gay shit
You practicin ollies in the game, I'm bustin tre-flips
I ain't cool with y'all, y'all ain't cool with me, diss me in a shitty fucking track, bruh, that's cool to me
Uh, it's a bitch rapper holocaust, chain em up, slice em open, pelt em all with Molotovs
J Trauma always victorious, fuck defeat
And now my homie Walnut Jones about to crush this beat

[Verse 2: Walnut Jones]
Got alot of property
And we live in poverty never living properly
Every night a robbery,they prolly robbing me
Or raping up my neighbors inside her ovaries
Theires no apologies, we dont see no policies
Cause getting into trouble are our only qualites
We taking all the G’s and we building colonies
In the belly of the beast where a demon a swalloed me

Another night in projects taking all these objects
Sell em for a profit at the pawn
Breaking into closets,looking in ya ride
Some guy telling us get off his lawn..
We gotta do em wrong, I look over at my nigga sean
I gave him the signal it was on reached in his back
Got black gat bap bap bap and then we had rannn
And i didn’t look back, man tell me whats use
Just see a nigga leaking like juice
Threw up the duece, my nigga had to scat
Told him not worry, i would get rid of the gat
But i was playing cat, curiousty had killed me
Fingerprints revealed me, how could i be silly
I returned to my home where I saw blue and red
I knew in my head that that 2 of us were dead
I was gonna cry, but i never shed a tear from my eye
If im gonna run, i gotta try
My memory is dry Now I wonder why
Probally cause The story that im telling is a lie