This is a song about "Host"

But what i do know, is that he's real and he lives forever

The director, host is my agenda, italian leather

Wrapped around your throat, you about meet death with me as your host

Righteously living, i know all my verses be cold

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

So hood i put sugar on toast then i serve it like a host

My money fourth and long, but you do not get to throw

Has played host to a host of the wrong, known all along though.

But can i really call me one when i talk most to a host

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

Rednecks would get nervous when you would host black friends,

My ambition to win, just to get me some ends

But for most i see you as a ghost on while i be the host,

Turn it upside down and open your legs if you're real cold

I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents

It’s a neighborhood where nervously i host black friends,