This is a song about "Jacks arse"

I need to wake your scrawny arse up so you don't forget about me

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

I was hyper because i didn't get attention from my real pops

Fair skin like cream in genie jar but mouth spillin' wind like loony arse

Guess the heat was too much, like the arse of the popes children choir

So i tried to show her about the world and about just who we really are

You killing all these jacks?your from the racks

We getting money, you can face the facts

Me and black don't fake jacks but we might sling one

My name's kingpin slim and i'mma son of a gun

So flip me the facts i started killing all these jacks

And dj's play my records cause i make the needles dance

A biggie imposter bout to turn you into bacon to eat with some flap jacks

Witness me strapped with macs, knew i wouldn't play thatall you old rappers trying to advance