This is a song about "Black slaves stink"

Wifey like it one minute next minute she don't, man

Your rhymes stink, like rotten bananas in a trash can,

Word~! don't nobody talk no more they all text message

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

A few niggas talk but they do without knowledge

You stink like a lit tire

Yeah i'm gon' leave with her

If we talk your lines, well they stink more than a sewer.

This ill right here, i represent the future

But i think they stink like poo

Niggas that guided me through

Making them slaves for countless days implementing their fate,

Where every recipient, property of the state

With rhyming skills, you in amish village

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch