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

The people ain't got shoes for they feet, or food to eat

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat

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

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

I hate bitches snitches stab them with syringes throw em in ditches and holes fuck hoes/

I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows

Fine women love losers, that treat 'em bad and cheap

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat

Blood on the floor, now all the bitches crying

The most that they can do is find me, i'm hiding

And y'all talk constantly, about all of your bitches and hoes,

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

Blood stained rhymes cause a frantic panic attack//

Hold the shit back, say goodbye and go commit that

Before this rapping, i was trappin', getting work cheap

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat