This is a song about "C mon son"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Even ice, i , c , e

// [but the kid is not my son]

So next time i come, i'll bring you one

Nah, i wouldn’t wish fame on my enemy

A, b, or c choose your fatal destiny

Time for you to s u c c u m b, to ma truth and see me big

Shakin' like it's parkinsons from the clitoris of kelly clarkson's dick

Like mitt, rom-ney, with his fuck-ing dumb, mon-ey.

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

Everybody knows that the best mcee is carl c

It's about niggas and bitches, power and money

It was plain to c she gave birth to a c-u-n-t

Forreal, i got a pole in the basement

Think fast, fast women

Damn.... can you keep up son?