This is a song about "My junk"

My words are my ignition for my ammunition,

That's because thats these compton streets was built not to win

Since back in high school, we was true, me and you

My junk hang low like there aint no curfew

After your hoes leave the jets' hangout

Ya can see my, my, my, my kick-off so shout

Probably because you got that autistic junk in your head

And i ain't stopping baby even if the light is red

Tell me that you're joking not rapping, your raps are like a cane of junk

Never let another rap nigga hit it from back or the front

My nitty bag, my kitty boost

Then you're fucking confused,

Is it the money or my marriage or media peace

[j] jeez, jesus is jabbin' my junk in justice juries.