This is a song about "Spice"

Under pressure i don't sweat like my pores shut

All day we blow trees, we'll spice your life up

I’m just saying they’re mad cause i don’t make much

Im a nice guy with a spice of hate just for lunch

What it means to know your momma or your father on that pipe

My sleight of hand is flying so bright with all spice i'd call it lite

Navigating through her eyes, destination to her thighs

I bring the spice, it's nice, strife and hype, a trife life,

U lack the spice, black n' white like bank robbers be

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free