This is a song about "Disregarding males and getting mon"

I woulda done anything for my own

Growin out my dreads, i'm bob marley mon

Call it bubonic, getting all the dollars and

Or like monumental mixtape of the moment

No cadillac, no perms, you can't see

Like mitt, rom-ney, with his fuck-ing dumb, mon-ey.

Highest form of affection, physical connection

And fuck all these sticky situations that i'm getting in

'cause we're getting paid, and they're getting pissed!

My rap isn't fast but i have been the coldest

You gon' miss a good thing, end up bitter alone

"holy shit wow look at them gigantic racks my mon!"

Wit’ some killers and everybody know who we are

And the rhythm itself just keeps getting slower and slower.

{*both*} but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her

As my brain keeps getting brighter and brighter