This is a song about "Look at the flick of the wrisk"

Can't be held against you in any kind of way

When i get to the butt, i flick it, and walk away,

Than i look up at the sky

Tears that our fore fathers cry

"what a nuisance!" look at the newsprint

You know i stick to the script

Played with peoples lives i'll light a cigarette and flick it at you take a picture of your

But fuck that, cindi was my dope fiend motherwelfare checks never stepped through the front door

With the flick of my wrist syphilis spitting it's sick

But when i come around her crib, i go in on this chick

Statistics show....have a look at the histogram

My shit hair-burning, you not even a lil’ tan

Look at the competitions composition

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

It's them who've lost love, and love for a lyricist

Hit that ball deep with nothing but a flick... of the wrist.