This is a song about "Italian mob"

Faggot talk shit you'll get whacked call me italian.

Perfect 10 and lord knows that i need one

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

The mass murder mob, with plots of kidnapping cops

But this italian is too slick, guess it's my greasy skin.

Desire get confused and you could lose your direction

Keep your heads up high

Riper than italian rye

Hold up call it prime time, hold up i'm a mob bomb.

You know, kiss his mom. she gave him wisdom charm

Idolizing the struggle of italian guys in a scuffle

Cause see way back, i thought to fuck with you was impossible

Shit be happening for a reason, everything is everything

Foes has got to realize, the mob on a killin, robbers gott a stealing,

Remember meeting you in those italian heels and that designer dress

I shall not fear no man but godthough i walk through the valley of death