This is a song about "9 thousand"

Just grazin for days on a thousand laughs.

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

So pun... it's no new shit and it ain't no fun

Two thousand one born a son of a gun

It takes back to the year of two thousand and nine

Pad on the heel that's a passion of mine

Kill one; we send fifty-thousand to reinforce

They calling me often to offer me walls

Taking ten thousand tragedies- boy i can't even count

I go dough let around, my ho slow head around

Eight thousand years have gone by and yahyah's not quite so little,

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

With a thousand latinos! holding rakes with leaves!

Spit selvage my nigga, it's in my jeans

Had to teach the bitch manners, now i gotta learn her

50, thousand volts you're gunna save for later.