This is a song about "Fleur de lis"

Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace

I can't wait til she find out that that's really not the case

Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/

Done be ashamed-it ain't no thang, i used to blow trees

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

De ja vouz, i could vision my killa crew, more hospitable, consciously

Stand for something or die in the morning

So pon de replay, rihanna quit talking.

Still a hobbit and like sauron's eye, you'll taste de foot

I’m picturing that body like a camera phone would

Motor city's gritty, clowns like you get bent and then de-stroyed

Cause i got a lot of hair on my booty but that's beside the point

Concha de tu madre bitch don't touch my fuckin mota

Any club we out we prolly' tearin' up the sofa