This is a song about "Myths and realites of cowboys"

Made of sized plies and pleas

You make a nigga sing songs nice

And the significance of cops

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

Go inside the mind, you will find the mine

I got something you've been waiting for

Innovative and i'm made of rubber

And i already 99 of them,

Then to try to chase these men

Of mice and men and friendly fans of songs

So these bars not mine, nigga it's yours

With shards of ice and glass

You can't be wiping your ass

Chomping at your oxygen chords

Yea, and some of them faults,