This is a song about "Andrew wharton"

I don't care what it did to them

The wall being the victim

Be my little pill and just creep into my blood stream

I'm so fuckin' southern i could be the son of paula dean,

J big as a muffler, we puff that meineke weed

Got a dream like martin, and i must see it be complete/

Honey, you’re worth the price

I'm everything that they call nice

Then i fed her pecker against the dry wall

They ain't hard, swear to god. these niggas ain't real at all

I feel like i'm breaking out of a wall,

That’s the same block metta world peace learned to play ball

You ain't' doing shit til you put 10 gees on fantasy football

Hittin your door while your car's spinning, hitting the wall

These days we praise martin

Bad hoes i'm seen with them