This is a song about "Ing"

I was born to do the damn thing

Saturdays we young lavish-ing

Ing to this finely adorned thing, my eyes see, were fondling

Blowing money fast looking like i'm saving nothing

I lead the city in requests, but don't do nothing

Ing to this finely adorned thing, my eyes see, were fondling

Watching for hollow-tip shots

Straight up nagasaki-ing comic cons

Before my head gets steered, not hearing shit, man im go-ing crazy

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

Like mitt, rom-ney, with his fuck-ing dumb, mon-ey.

Killer stay uptown, louden va tree

My bars are a fluent fit / a confusing mix exiting my spewing lips

Then y'all should get this too he's no please-ing it's a fact/he's a criminal of feelings

Story of keeness, bore-ing these cretins with irony

Spread the word and witness, he rose on the first sunday