This is a song about "Load"

This motha fucka crowed

That'll make ya blow your load

And i know u cant handle this heavy lyrical load

I know you get lonely when i ain’t home, on the road

When you making a difference it's gone be haters

I'd never sell crack in the ghetto and don't load chambers,

Load up his nine no one defy him

I guess i'm leftwich cause i still get to win

Umm, this lane is open if, if you need

I eat shrooms, and smoke a fuck-load of weed,

And i snap like bob backlund in the booth

Locking the nine, load it up, dissing bitch crews,

To shoot a load on your blinded retina.

I try to tell them i'm one of the

You can swallow your words like a full load to the dome

And you acting grown, doggy you ain't back at home