This is a song about "Jack smith"

And these artists don't need me they already rich

I'm a word smith, but the lines are blurred bitch

Quick flipping up sexy back

We kung-fu that jack black/

Like that's going to make up for the years and the tears

I tacked, now my eyes bare they aren't john smith blank stares,

He's goin back, leave the road, jack

That moschino shit is so back

That's flyer than a wrestler, you don't want to mess with

Fifty grand in my pants like ivy smith

Bringin back osama, hitler, and jack the ripper,

Something like serena mixed with trina, have you seen her

That's how this shit be goin when you go for number one

We dont die, starin down the barrel of a smith & wesson

"im not saying jack shit"

Razor grips, laser spit