This is a song about "Ana and eric"

Raps and beats and rhyme scheme,

I just know what you mean

Once as a slave who imagined being free

And a fridge and some broccoli

These hoes say i'm a poet i try to make em different

And my tongue stay flicking, over clits and fucking lips and

Slice and slash, bite and gnash, bite and mash, fight and smash,

On the phone. 10 years he got, chasin' that cash

And kill yourself and your clique

Cause they right down the street

And i'm dizzy and spinning

I was born to do the damn thing

Running fakes over like a battering ram, eric dickerson

Living in a box full of cuyahoga booze, and listen

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers