This is a song about "Popin the choppa"

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

Dial the humidifier, arrange the amplifier/

Alcohol and booty calls

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

I choppa yo ass down you was bodied on , had my bitch empty that clip

Left brain, super 3, creator ace

The streetz is aint the safe

And to my soldiers rocking green in the country

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

Do the math, get the sum

Now look: the change has come

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there