This is a song about "A kid and his dog"

The beggars can't borrow, the record sales drop

Ticklin him go to his grave, skip him and visit his dog

I got a love jones for your body and skin tone

This little kid grew up to be a weirdo on his own

You wonder how it feels to walk a mile inside tha shoes

And boastin cause i know this kid can't prove that his flow is smooth

Niggas can't see mei dedicate this to you punk motherfuckers!this one's for you, big baby

His kid is free to say, "my dad's a hero, a catwoman, he even likes milking me"

That wet wet in my two seaterher nails done, her hair did

And i remember always running in the hallways as a kid,

Chilling with his homies high instead of caring for his kid,

Yeah, inglewoodinglewood always up to no good

Hot man, god damn, killa cam be live

Of a high school kid and his real times

As a child his only friends were his dog, his page and his pen

Tell em their ambitions then we need some more of them