This is a song about "Pitman hall"

In a hall i, hear groans and whispers muttering things more obscure,

Tito santana matador ain't equipped to stop the bull

I split, back into the back hall so dark,

Hoes pop from the corda to hope park

I'm passed the hall of fame/

You're not usin' your brain

Hopefully i can get in the hip-hop hall of fame

I turned into something they never became

Motherfucking 8 balls, til’ we live at the pool hall

But when you need a friend you can depend on me, call

And i don't know no triple h, but this is all about the game

Only hall of fame i'll be inducted in is the alcohol of fame

If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy

Boys stoppin me in the hall and theyer saying hey g

Only hall of fame i'll be inducted in is the alcohol of fame

And showing you and yours that breaking rules is fucking cool again