This is a song about "Piano players"

Sup players, thanks for all the support,

I style on new york, pile up my fork

Three major players gettin papers by the layers

Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years

We don't want you with skinny legs and the big ass ass shots

I grew up in new orleans, ball players and rhyme stars,

Deep into her soul, slow, now he's in controlpop's doing worse, a victim of his deadly curse

So you drop a diss on a disk that you expect people to slip into their cd players

Then bring your big bad ass to california, cause we ain't hard to find

I get gritty on wax like record players- i'm the slayer of that kind

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

Look deep inside my train of thoughts, gold ring players,

Hustle from regis and kelly into the late show

Singin' to a man while they played piano