This is a song about "Anwar al mustafa"

Mixed with diluted cider brewed with, tools from al-qaeda units

Oooo your booty so thick behind them juicy ass lips

You know your son a asshole, but i hope you got those stacks though

My path of destruction leaves disaster like al pacino,

And i'm indecisive when the things are light

Al-right, continue to impose my might.

That flies me to places, with spaceships, that don't need money

Al give ye a tip seen as ye you canny see me visually

Out-of-place and tore-up like al-qaeda with a jewish bible,

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

But i'm in the bible like moses, read the damn book

These are al the symptoms of growing up in tha hood.