This is a song about "Butthole cancer"

I don't rap flipping coke, i just try to give em hope

Of cigarettes, cancer sticks, almighty fire with no smoke

Must be the sickness that grows inside cancer patients,

Your grind's feeble, i'm regal, really, i'm willy smith

They'd only be happy with a minstrel actor

I'm an incurable sickness like terminal cancer

Has-beens and never-will-be, ringtone rappers

I pass cancer through the mic, have answers,

Had, like, the mixtape of the year

Nah, that's just cancer killing off your career

Just to let you know, you are

For kicks i cure cancer

I just want an answer, am i really like cancer?

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

Only thing you smoke is firecrackers causing cancer

Not even on the distance factor chicks who pick the rapper