This is a song about "Chimp buttocks"

You niggas under cars you should be unemployed

They were living to strive, two stories with a main point

I was being an ass

I can get straight to the cash

I think i've got some enemies disguised as friends

Can you prove there's something you can call your breasts?

I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows

Brawling beefy boars beastly black bears burly bison and unbridled bucking broncos

Fuck being an architect and kissing ass,

I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last

So narrow brained get wise boys, but not to the point

Know i had to do a jay dilla joint

Catch you up on places i've been

What's the point? what's the reason?

Kicked out on my own ass

Just put your hand on the glass