This is a song about "Dumbo p"

So just pass the weed, i smash ‘em g’s, you can call my ass a master p,

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

Hundred racks of hundreds in the stash house

Thanks to you, d p s drowns!

Get me on mp3 or d. v. d, known by country, 'n n. l. p. d!

Cooking in a laboratory, hoping i can tell a story

That was the sonic art form of rhyming and poetry, and it is abbreviated in three letters r-a-p

I attack mentality an watch people fear me, its clear see as they all flex a.s.a.p

Just wait, this is not the end p

The good kid from the ugly city

Of a koenigsegg going 200 m-p-h trough the interstate

Take yo' chick, with no complaints, she say my shit oh so great

I've read huey p. newton, listened to malcolm speak,

This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep