This is a song about "Funk love"

// [bitch you get (no love)]

It's just textbook stuff

The creator of this shit funk volume dame,

Your man wale in his own damn lane

This funky rhythm fits so snug, dynamic funk boomin from your trunk

Ripley's believe it or not would tell you that i'm different

Lady of rage and rbx, g-funk would say,

Rub my back, then let me lay

Crunk on that colt 45 drunk feeling funk nah mean

And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream

Yet the things that i love

And i can't help but notice

I'm breathing for a purpose

// [ha! bitch you get (no love)]