This is a song about "Records"

You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

Bring back record sales, i sail while i break records

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

My records sell, yes sir

You heard knowledge is power

And breaking all the records on that 4x4 relay

And i can't even look the other way

And ask to see his tax records, they'll make you bound to walk,

What you think i flow for? y'all niggas is old dog

Aiyyo i argue with my mother, spring, summer, fall, winter time

I rap just to pass time mat ta fact i used to sell records for a dime,

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

Now i'm putting out these records so that hood shit is explained,

I'm rapping for royal records

Chomping at your oxygen chords