This is a song about "4 minutes"

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

Intense with eviction of syllables mixed with precision in minutes

Loc’s on, chucks low, black beanie dogpatron top wash straight from the liquor store

When a 4 by 4 comes crashing into your skull and furthermore

And i'mma show you how the south was won

(six minutes, six minutes, slim shady, you're on)

Uh, that shit you talk don't move me nada

And wrote this from 4:25 to 4:30, hah

Minutes slipping like butter, time turning the wheel

I'm everybody top ten, you ain't even top tier

He's dissing me now, but ten minutes from now

Cause i run up in them and i make their cats meow

Yo 4-bit, yeah i called you 4-bit look at me i'm 8-bit

And my vision isn't set on the money i get

Shout 4:20, 4:20, like it's your obsession,

Some excedrinto get rid of conception