This is a song about "Foot long hotdog"

I'm too strong, eight arms sticking to a bomb

Cowering on my stage to long/

Got my foot on the gas

Your life is a product of trash

Ha, and the bitches all gone

Hanging out here all day long,

And then along came the wrong man for her

I've got my foot on your shoulder

Americans tackle in foot ball? getting all bloody?

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree

White boy, six foot, packin a nine

Probably wave goodbye at the same time

Pad on the heel that's a passion of mine

I'm not flying sky high, i'm only four foot nine

Swerve never stay alive, foot ain't on gas right now

Cause i run up in them and i make their cats meow