This is a song about "Man of many words wracked often even when i miss solitude"

I live the street life, ya heard? guns, money and birds

When i spit i murder emcees and stack words

I dont care how many words,

That try to chase these skirts

I am hip-hop. past, present and future

Words flouous, too many, i make that super

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

Cuz when i leave, i know she'll miss me

Oh i miss you man but it wasn't meant to be

And this baby daddy, is new to the family

It's double mg but i'm 'bout that cash money like baby

I often wonder what other people see when they look at me

I miss when we use to lay and get frisky

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

You know i've been told many times that when i rhyme i'm misusing these words,

Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works