This is a song about "Mother fucking gentle man mother fuckers"

Including every mother fucking soul it holds.

80 holes in your shirt, there: your own jamaican clothes

Representing grimsby mother fuckers not the london town

Well do the hokey-pokey, and turn that ass around

And i just want to hold her

Mother, o my mother

‘cause i manipulate your molecular structure

Clever mother fuckers, with satellites that hover,

This is not the 8 mother fuckers no its the 9 mile

I know they gon' see me unless they senile

Cuz ama mother fucking beast

Truthfully, some eye at least

And we way too young to know love, maybe not but we don't need no rush

Yall mother fuckers need to start thinking nature is gorgeous