This is a song about "Rap saint"

And sense when because i rap,

And you all will respect that

Imma spit this angry rap

Hit your block with a glock, blog that

Asking her to meet me at six by the church of the saint to talk about things we had done and said

But then they'll have an accident and pick up another mani went to the bank to cash my check

To every verse of my rap

Fourth quarter, that sack; fourth ward in all black

Im never apart, their bitches look like saint bernards

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

Enemies wanting to finish me, mind your self as a saint,

He finally begins to rap,

Or let the mob handle that

This the overdosage of lyrical rap

The best journeyacres of land and swimming pools and all that