This is a song about "My niggers"

Damn shame niggers in my crew can't bang

You always say you wasn't ready for no man

She all on my skin

My researched information,

We hustle to survive

See my pain through my eyes,

Of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers

My fliest days and my plummets... my random flaws in abundance,

The root of all evil, is sorta like the roots new sequel

Except the niggers and the women and the whites who aren't regal

So, shake ya plats, shake your dreads

My wondrous success bombs my regrets

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

While im dishing out all of their wishes and burnin em faster than niggers in

My leisure, my pleasure, my light, my love, my measure

Huh, big syke he be ready for whatever