This is a song about "Pu y"

'coz how the fuck can you be friends with a craz-y

Why don't you just get a little taste baby

They swore that i was all fuckin' nuts like a gay porn

Didn't want you to mistake me that's y i wrote this song

Loud p.o.t. above y’all, patron at 4 am, fuck the last call

Bored stiff so ya mock six pox-y / names on the wall.

But y can't you fucking see

Killer stay uptown, louden va tree

Its y-u-n-double g, and if you trouble me

You be get up on this fly shit baby

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

L y r i to the c

They said im guilty, i ain't get the chance to say im not

Its the same thing ever y day, it strikes some people as odd.