This is a song about "Moustache ya"

Dont make me tomahawk ya,

I ain't, mad, at cha

Ya don't know what i've been through do ya,

Used to call me the african don dada

Ya full of ya self, get ya cock out ya mouth before ya jump in this beef

So i give my love to my lady and pray for all these babies

Fast life ya behind ,ya currency just declines

Problem is i shine like two mics under heavy strobe lights

Our children must be taught, of africa

Paranoia that shit might kill ya

Kicks new, my denim, raw

I just gotta mock ya,

Shoes, louis, prada, groupie blah blah

Except the motherfucker who challenged ya

But do ya know what fuck ya!

I ain't mad at cha