This is a song about "Sell a satsuma"

I’m pulling you over

My records sell, yes sir

Women at my pole

●i dont fucking sell my soul

Had a poor man swag now it’s priced right

Sell out a show and grow from the hype.

Stir the beef up in a pot, it's hot, cook it up and sell it,

Sippin then call a cab nobody know their limit

Sell you to the rich for cheaper than a pair scissors,

Talking caramel with them asses like the strippers

When you rapping how i'm rapping, they fellatio free

Run around town, looking for a guy that sell that tree,

Easy baby. you the bomb and all, but i be damned if i do not land mine

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

You sell yourself for better jobs

Fuckin' up my gold pots