This is a song about "Italian numbers"

We come through throbbing like thunder storms

People wonder at the numbers of hordes

Till we're dumb high, dumb high

Riper than italian rye

Old rubber burners feed kids, have to run the numbers

Nasty new street slugger, my heat seeks suckers

The numbers unknown, hang up the phone

Be shy when we're all alone

Uh, every time i’m in my city, i be acting like my shit don’t stink

Pay attention, focus, dividing rappers like numbers in a quotient/

Girls on the street asking for numbers

So you finally got the nerve

Proportions of the profit, runnin' numbers in a circle,

So i'm hurting. me effort is apparent she not fertile

In numbers as her body decomposed.

Hoes i need a condom for my toast