This is a song about "Krayzie bone shoot the clu"

Don't shoot the messenger, just go along and hate the martyr,

I'm haunted by the thoughts of being husband, or a father

That she really only loved talking about all the men she used to bone

Young money, cash money so strong, keep scorin’, i’ma bring it on home

Yeah, you can tell em i’m home

And one bitch who bad to the bone

You by the cooler yea you niggas don't get no tick

So they means you have to shoot like the kid's smokin' chronic?

I'd shoot for the moon but i'm too busy gazing at stars

Its way different ma you see em passin' out bars

Come on girl, close your eyes pretend that your home

Ill cut you and eat your flesh to the bone

Imagine a loose cannon, lacking the balls to shoot

Bad bitches waving at me, real niggas salute

Know i had to do a jay dilla joint

And leave the court, shoot the judge, head for east detroit,