This is a song about "Ginger pubes"

You have no rap in that pad

Wonder if they take it all back

Living in this bag of meat standing 6 foot tall

Hittin your door while your car's spinning, hitting the wall

I'll tackle fuckin' fans on stage, i spread lyrical cancer plagues,

You think that we was learnin' from other rappers' mistakes

Scratch out what ya got in that rap pad,

Then clap then shake it without breaking your back

Nonstop rapping, yo girl tapping me, wrapping me up like a package packing sheet

When she was pregnant i'm surprised i ain't retardedat night i can't sleep, count sheep

Saying life's a piece of cake

I'm laughing; you couldn't wait to escape

And skinny jeans ain't quite the lick

So stick a stick up your dick

I am i can sam i sand with cans of panther meat

And everything after nautilus ain't a beat