This is a song about "Blonde girls"

Charlie sheen on them haters, they dont wanna let me win

Rich girls don't even look at girls that was the notion

Strumming my pain with his fingers

Spit that knowledge, and peace my girls,

Then waking up in the morning sore next to a damned dead blonde whore

My nigga hustle all day in front of the corner store

It's ironic they call me a fresh breath no joke

Only thing thicker than a blonde girl, is my smoke

Lyrical manslaughter off you and your mans

Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs

I'm a slave to my own rage, no blonde in this world is safe.

He said that he rather put the pump to his face

We should appreciate the girls

They ain't say that then they wouldn't be haters

But all ten of them gonna call a nigga period

Vice versa, eyes blue and hair blonde from the meth i did,