This is a song about "Ivil of de"

So roll up the marley, my eyes all low up in this party

Give me the mic, my de-vice, that i utilise, write these lines, that'll be

So i got my camera on your cameltoe say cheese

Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/

Slick rick, de la soul, and rakim spit sicker,

Growin up all i wanted was a father figure

Left u de-formed,senseless like wayne's chorus

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love

Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace

So, why don't you fucking wipe that stupid look on your face

I just feed em, fuck em, till i’m satisfied

The words brings de-lights peace is what i incite