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

The nerve of this prick, he said fuck it you can have her

And the rhythm itself just keeps getting slower and slower.

It's late and you stuck in my basement

Getting on all fours to fill in the pores and,

Growin out my dreads, i'm bob marley mon

But i be like for real, just pick up that phone

I never gave a fuck and that's what they love

And snitches be getting hunted like some witches

Though i recite it like it lucifer's loose leaf

Its getting harder and harder to breathe,

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

Fuck the source, i'm on cover of rolling stone

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

Charlie sheen on them haters, they dont wanna let me win