This is a song about "Customary memoir perceive intimate despite stark disservice naysayer appeal permit"

8 in the morning when that street clock bust

Perceive these words, the making of a legend

I ain't worried bout shitbitch i'm the shit

Feminine’s getting intimate

Hey, don't do anything that i say in this song, okay? it's fuckin' fiction

On a mission for twin additions, your destination, love's intimate fruition

Must be my sex appeal, the ladies ideal

All my love to these queens in here

That internal exorcist, expanding the intimate

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit

You just another dumb hoe with some sex appeal

I got to make sure that i can play here

And despite what you may think

How they stand there, cuffed up, patient

That's when you know you doing shit

He don't need a permit