This is a song about "Scripps ranch"

I wouldn't even call this a battle, it feels like im out here prodding cattle

That you looking like an angel-sent from the heavens, god bless your every angle

I can do that to a nigga and make a pool on her

And i'm no firm believer that we can fully end this neither/

Niggas gonna run down, tell you put your gun down

So i'm on my firm biz wit a brick of that foxxy brown

But there's a devil in the ghetto tryin to tear it apart

Rape a bitch, rampart, im dorner outside the la court yard

Lead us not into temptation

This is the end station

Raising mutants on a farm.

Full of shit, like i ate that john

So ray j went straight to radio station the very next day

She said i'm her hideaway i get her off like a holiday

This boa, what's your motivation

Of the nearest gas station,