This is a song about "Guns hoes bitches crip blood gangsta"

Poppa took the television, but left the radio

Bitches and hoes, yo, get smothered underneath the snow,

Licking bitches in between there toes, fucking all the hoes

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

But scum like this worked up storybook gangsta

No soprano, half black half white, i’m a piano

We talkin' b blockers keep us with deep pockets

Got one good tip: bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks

They are inspirational and i wish i could get into music/ most bitches and hoes that enter/

When slick rick was spittin la-di-da-digaming the hoochies at the neighborhood block parties, i remember

I'm a team player, i ain't tryna be no king

Blood on the floor, now all the bitches crying

Maharishi kicks and bape tee's i really do this

Fuck nazis ' hoes and fuck illuminati's bitches

And i make music for the fuck of it, no fame

You ain't a crip like snoop you ain't a blood like game