This is a song about "Dry"

Face still dry, wasnt born wit shit fuk ya slice of pie

You need to hit the door, search for a new guy

This for my niggas that really rap hard

Anyway pay me now it's time for dry art

The chap stick has run dry,

All you niggas die

With feelings that we're dry

Weighin 165 and these tricks should die

I been blowin ghanja my mouth dry i need some drank

I understand, i'm back by popular demand

Lord, forgive me, as a kid, i used to look at niggas jealous

Until that shit would dry up, memories would dangle rough,