This is a song about "Off the job"

I get my cake; i love hip hop

No job, got robbed, by the mob, i sobbed.

The hitman's job, slaying villains in the millions, fuck maybe billions,

That we’ve been confined to, so the corporate won’t make decisions

The game wit a field goal our coach said good job boys u were on a roll

My success'll be the death of youlo and behold you sold your soul

Your ho be on my penis, she check my french, bitch

When the job are scarce and you mind lacks college

You know i am not gon stop

I run out on the job.

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

My bitch a lady but a freak up in the sheets

And if i do go you better come through

May not have the job i want to

Then i switched the grill on the chevy, got a nose job

She can only take so much more than her heart got