This is a song about "Chopping a mix"

And if you disagree, suck a couple pimple-covered dicks

Upon other limbs it's looking like a bag of chex mix

Gimme a stage and a mic and a mix

They gettin chips, they flippin bricks

And add nightmares to the mix.

And the v12, that's on various trips

Flea ridden carpets, chopping harlots into section

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

Out of roads grow the brightest flowers of the mix,

I.e. i get sick, white tee, i be kicks

Just speak kcb again then you'll see a mix

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

Me and my boy's up in jail chopping up nigga's with razors.