This is a song about "De hoet"

To him, nothing is funnymind set on one thing, making his money

Give me the mic, my de-vice, that i utilise, write these lines, that'll be

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

You just want jewelry and all them fuckin shopping sprees

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

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

You cross dress like oscar de hoya, your life's a cock fest

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed