This is a song about "Chimp buttocks"

I'll easily barbecue your reply and kangaroo-kick your confidence,

Without my crew and me, slurring words and spitting so loosely but its so fast its

And there's little to be glad for

Loony bottom line your a rhyme taker

You gotta understand man

Anger woken, hanger man, can,

Or i can use tape, who's fate can i decide/

Studio fifty four if we get the props right

I hope we see the light before it's ruined, my ghetto gospel

Looking for the answers at the bottom of a bottle

Know i had to do a jay dilla joint

And i'll be the richest,but money isn't point

This the land of the white man

We may snooze when we can

I wanna kick his tush, but i was six and shook

Adapt to being black, strapped and gang tats, look