This is a song about "Pro clubs"

Too a quick morsel/slick with the writs also/you a rookie me im all pro/

You are now face to face with a thorough pharaoh who be down on death row

Do you think i'm out of my mind with this tape

Joining clubs in highschool so they can debate

Even when y'all deep, y'all still all sweet

From the streets of nyc to clubs playing the beat

Imma fucking pro, nigga, i stay composed

You pay your favorite stripper car note

I spit non-fiction,rather than pro-fiction causes you affliction

I’m simply fuckin’ with bitches that know they whole position

Some go to country clubs, while others grub, drown at liquor stores,

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

I thought i was pro with my clever lines

And i'm on you rapper's ass like brake lights