This is a song about "G o b"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

My name is razor b

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

And just maybe i will go easy on you little ( g ), cause your raps are ( o ), made my comp blow

But five years from now i bet she see

Shady, fifty, d.r.e., d o double g,

If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy

I'm wicked so my image makes me snoop d o g

Nah you flow whacker than lil' b

We came.. way too far pretty baby

B-b-back to the #future making bread out of #toast,

And i drop top off in a hot cold

Could i make you my baby

Rap is music with real substance b

But ion show no love g

I was wondering maybe