This is a song about "Call the popo hoe"

I dumped the hoe and fell asleep inside of a bugatti

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

But now the dough like kaiser bro

Which itty bitty whiny hoe

If you ready then i'm ready go, hear this on my radio

That's my cash flow; the mass of the ass attached to my last hoe

From now on dont call me lriss call me the examiner

Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger

The popo aint numbered yet, my mind still backed up

I wouldn't fuck another girl out of the club

I never fucked that tight white bitch, because i found out that hoe was the snitch,

Cause i'll kill if i find out you're watching some other movies, bitch

You waking the dead, don't test me hoe my weapons is real

While my mom is in the kitchen cookin' up a meal