This is a song about "Cyrano de bergerac"

Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/

Like the nigga on the block waving his glock but won't squeeze

Nigga de fasion bitch im know for setting trends

While i ride this maserati, rick and his best friends

I'm on the verge of excellence kill em off with no evidence

Wish i get i could produced by scoop de-ville, no need to take pills

Play me for a stepping stone then, i land mine, huh

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

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

A " d boy ", the town i'm representin is de-troit

Everyday we party hard like ther ain't no tomorrow

Catch me in the tour de france the way i cycle this flow

I'll terrorize the cul-de-sac, rappers, i ain't holding back,

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

De ja vouz, i could vision my killa crew, more hospitable, consciously

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see