This is a song about "No gifts for chr"

And i snap like bob backlund in the booth

No time for make up and no time for truth

No toys for you little boy

Ain't like my job or guys i employ

Said when i do dirt wit her

Ain't no eggs for the batter

They getting deals with thier weak buzz

The gifts, i wanted on christmas?

Plus 11-99 in his muthafuckin' chest

For no longer am i scared,

Ain't no gimmick with the flow

Cus for her, there's no tomorrow.

No responsibilities for me listening

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king