This is a song about "Bet awards"

Sweet, okay makes sense

You would bet on malcolm sex

Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger

Miley cyrus, the grammy awards, helen keller, a cucumber?

Now i bet your wondering

And my only fear's a wedding ring

I bet everyone's jealous and just yap

Came home shit is real niggas still in the trap

Watching for the cops that's moving through

Then you're going to prison i bet you/

I bet it hard being you

It's really not an issue

Ey you can bet your ass i'm chillin'

Well wishes to my opposition

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

I don't need awards i got crowned celebration