This is a song about "Hoe in the store"

Like that one whore yeah that one i meet at the store,

Replaced by freak shit i am currently down for

Spitting by the door or to slow how i store

Grew up in the jungle where it's killers at war

My visions that i record, the instruments i adore

Like checkin' inventory you dont know what's in store

You question wasting money on those papers at the store

We used a andy warhol to paint the decor

Ain't no gimmick with the flow

Now get the fuck back hoe

I hit the studio

Now this is to the hoe…

Knowing i can go wherever and get 8 more

I'm a lost soul, twisted lyricist with mischief in store

I still got your letters laying in my dresser drawer

Of my ideas, you not gonna know whats in store