This is a song about "Brandon amp amp amp amp amp"

Madonna momma, body bottled, you're fine. i'm finer

By the fire in my desire to raise the bar higher

Shut yo big fat crusty ignorant lips up and listen

I’m pitchin bitches thats dreamin’ thinking i'm trickin’ chicken

They just need convincing like malcolm little

My salute to you i raise the middle

What you tripping on?see, i'm the spoiled chick

I eat big. i dream big. i need big

With the pump on my side, and my nine mr. no luck.

How can niggas blame us, i am not ashamed but

And that's word to my nigga bad boy

Hold up, hold up, hold up, we bear the croix

My rhymes strike like acid chemicals,

We vegetables, on them record labels

So she decides to stand up, woman up and never give up

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck