This is a song about "Sex money and murder"

The therapist said hello but my mom would wonder

Racism, sexuality, religion and murder

Convertibles with turbo jets

And in love with her, lets have sex

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead

And repurpose other versions of your murder bed

After this battle ill be apprehended, and charged with murder

So tell em parappa the rapper nigga rap harder

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

And when we fucked i just wished it was safe sex

Ravishing, rick rude of rappin you bastards

The ones talkin bout sex, money, && wrappers

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

We thinkin you got em and going murder

Mr. i-don't-give-a-fuck-about-you what they callin' him

Dealing in depression, murder and lyrical impregnation