This is a song about "Harlem blues"

I keep it funky with my misses, fuck these other bitches

From the lake to the blues every day life is

Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice

Twisted lyrics by these critics, and i'm playing my blues

Yeah, i got the flow that they know is the truth

Alternative to, we love the rhythm and blues

Call that bitch rondoi'm fresher than the prom hoteach her, we don't fly coachshe fuckin' but she act dumb

No poor family wants to see his son gone in the middle of the day in harlem

I wake back up i cant find my car i gotta blues clues

You wonder how it feels to walk a mile inside tha shoes

And your bitch is the type of bitch who really wanna lose

Fuck with me i make ya genre red just like it got the blues

Just coming out of church whistling a blues hymn,

With no receivers had the pickin of a option

But really i'm just caught in the loop, of understanding the truth

Playing my blues, while the hypocrites debatin' my views,