This is a song about "Clips"

* ron isley harmonizes throughout but sings no real lyrics

By feeding us these images, of bloody death and porno clips,

Like chris paul with clips of all your bitches getting triple holed.

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

Two bitches named tiffany i left them with a pair of kids

Bag of clips, i'm an addict, i like to spit kicks,

Most determined, but with the smallest of funds to show

4 with banana clips, that 9 with that dick tho

With gats, extra mags and clips

To see me and my chicks in dkny kicks

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

So lucid lucifer would lose it if the shoe fits shooting clips before the truth admits

Throw the clips in clouded never misses lesson 6 listen or meet sorrow

And they drummin' on the hollow buckets, show ain't over 'til it's bravo

Takin' clips from the magazines like killers, filled up,

With a rosa parks state of mind, i don't give a fuck