This is a song about "Monkeys and deserts"

I'll hit you hooky like you skipping class

Slice and slash, bite and gnash, bite and mash, fight and smash,

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

And get it again and again

Made a million with the pen

Tryin not to feel hative as i sob, lobbin shit at me like fuckin monkeys, damn junkies,

Cause i chose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homiesbefore we find world peace

And inhospitable,

Shout out them strippers who hustle

I'm at morgan, howard, coppen, trying to find that higher knowledge

Monkeys be throwing shit at because your bars are garbage

And kill yourself and your clique

I pray the lord my guns to keep