This is a song about "Sex love and money"

Sweet, okay makes sense

Me and your mum had rough sex

The ones talkin bout sex, money, && wrappers

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

And sitting on side are my two sex pistols,

Took her to the club bought her three more bottles

I’m just multiplying my money and dividing the legs

Of you wannabes rapping bout thugs,drugs, and sex,

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

And if money wasnt there love could always be that one fair trade to share

Momma saying daddy a sex addict and a piece of shit/

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

So bitches hate to do me like it's convict community service

She aint an object but neither is money and ill have that free based love

Because there ain't no coming back from that

Slim davy, malcolm sex, we rape, kill, and rap