This is a song about "Cul de sac"

Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace

Heyyy! better daysgot me thinkin' 'bout better days

And i don't cook much but i'm tough with that phone book

Still a hobbit and like sauron's eye, you'll taste de foot

Concha de tu madre bitch don't touch my fuckin mota

I ain't gotta tell you they know about me, huh

Take a black drink it like you don't need a liver

Slick rick, de la soul, and rakim spit sicker,

Motor city's gritty, clowns like you get bent and then de-stroyed

Cause i got a lot of hair on my booty but that's beside the point

If u smoking with me you better de filling

I’m something like a fetus, i'm not quite kidding