This is a song about "Le trou du cul biatch"

I got my du-rag on with my fitted sittin’ on it

Like banana peels for heels, my spill is so legit

I'll terrorize the cul-de-sac, rappers, i ain't holding back,

I deserve a medal, i lap 'em every track

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

Cruisin around with four flats all the way to fon du lac,

And a mother who will never le-eave me

If you don’t recognize, you gon’ see

I gotta cadillac rollin up to fon du lac feelin up my girl in back,

Just gettin you a job then i zip that broad tryina get in them walls like ghost dad

When im in the rap game if they say that, ill put them in my duff...le bag!

Woof, bitch, top doglay yo girl face on my lap, let her play with my sack

I got my du-rag on with my fitted sittin’ on it

Rape her and record it, then edit it with more shit

Knew you who threw du ewe yu due que crew true u two drew u lu rue

And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brainarguements with my boo is true