This is a song about "Players basket ball"

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

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

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

You be on that stalker shit

Stork your head in a basket,

Staring at the crystal ball

I also have a cutie to call

To reds i ain't know how to act

A baby basket hound gettin lashed,

Two players rockin silk blazers and diamonds like glaciers

See me, i’d rather cut let ya body give birth

When you making a difference it's gone be haters

Just trying to go somewhere and play with europe players.

Because it's the third world, those dictators are basket cases,

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love