This is a song about "No stinking crotches in the photo"

She was wet off the bat

Ain't got no room in the back

Psycho, maestro, orchestrate the life with the right flow

Bitches pay for a photo,spit fire, komoto

Now drown in my sound, no clowns just the crown

Expose those fries, can't hold those down

I used to write rhymes, all day and all night

Like hard in the paint, no saints in sight

This for my people that stressing whenever times is hard

But, i'm not in this for the cash, no i'm no shark

I spit it like a loaded nine, pop

Man these nigguhs photo shopped

Then start again, don't have no muthafuckin' friends niggalook inside the heartz of men

The photo he took, he wasn't very quick, i think he's part of the minutemen