This is a song about "Nhl trade"

Time to get paid, blow up like the world trade

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

So play this shit while you contemplate, contemplate, contemplate

This is my sixth crusade, handing out hand grenades on every single slave trade,

I wouldn't trade you for the world, you're all that i need.

We have so much in common, starting at the feet

I've been used for trade and laid by soldiers against my will,

Takin' shots of poon juice to the head for a cheap thrill

Of that trade off, my dicks a plane bout to take off

In your gold pot addin' extra sauce because

If there was someway they could benefit from the trade

Control our mental states, settle down and set it straight

And if money wasnt there love could always be that one fair trade to share

And even when it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere

Most bitches, niggas call gone real or fake

I ain't religious, just for the drug trade