This is a song about "Fuckin butches gettin money"

You dried instead of gettin damp,

I start to think it's all planned

Turn up we gettin louder

And there's little to be glad for

And we gettin' money, over here,

But this real, fuck how you feel

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

When you're fuckin' close to gettin' beat up and poppin' bones,

He thinks aw, forget it, its so insignificant and little

I be laughin' to the bank like the fuckin' money tickle

Hey! what's your name? oh, that's nice

Gettin weak all in my knees

Gettin' high as cheech and chong

Wonder where i went wrong

Music is money, money isn't music

You feeling when you be drillin' that shit