This is a song about "Quater pounder"

Pound your head in, thats hammer

But that's what he liked her

While you mothafuckas waiting, i be off the slave ship//

Wicked ambition go give this shit a coroner visit

Your less shocking than a socket,

Then the gun shot, but i wasn't hit

But a pole position you couldn't hold, not even your own wooden bone

But oh i can’t stay away, not never, your my home, home, home

The street light was lit on the wrong pole;i drift in the depths of dark

She bend it over, make that thing look like a work of art

Savage, a placid assassin stabbing your back with a jagged pole

Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul

Im a champ i go pound for pound, cause i settled in the south,

Your bitch suck a dick while another nigga pounds

Bombing on her like a fucking rare mortar!

Yeah, as i walk up to the alter