This is a song about "Orang utan hair"

Haters say, "hey great" then turn back to drag hair

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair

I mean me is there, but it's like three there

If you was, i would climb every other stair, i gotta stare

Yessir... momma looking puerto rican and she got the best hair

So keep dreaming and whipping ya hair,

Throw your money in the air

She's got me love stoned from everywhere

But i still got that flow in my hair,

Lame hair that i gotta oppose.

Give me black bitches, white hoes, new clothes

With rain pouring down her already wet hair

... materialize her love for one who doesn't care

He'd rather come his hair.

And if they did, they didn't care