This is a song about "My hitta"

I gotta bounce, i don’t call her

Ditto drat her hitta hater

We was lookin for change 'til barack came

My cash effected, my brain insane,

Momma in the bathroom poppa at work

Pay a hitta to have a nigga disfigured,

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

Spend the night with me, we'll talk and

And i don’t know why you fuck niggas can’t see

My own unknown is my enemy,

My streaks my testament.

Fill up the plug, lemme light my blunt

These my rhymes and my story

But make sure if they do see

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

This is my original, my validation