This is a song about "Dre gettin silly with his little willy"

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Gettin to know his demons

Adopting his cash phrases from little wayne/

I love that hour glass shape you got up on that frame

Cause his girl was always goin' out and gettin' high

How high? nigga, higher than the kites they fly

Stuck between his cortex, with a little cancer

Nigga don't give a fuck, that's that wolf gang swagger

I met this girl that was silly, happy, jumpy with a heart of gold.

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

Swallow the cinnamon, i'mma scribble this sin and shit

I'm gettin' twisted sick with shit, it's ticking like arithmetic,