This is a song about "Stock"

They say my music knocks, so i hope it open every door

Eric ya long-haired derelict look what i've got stock in store,

Fuck a gun wheres my bow? flaming arrow in stock, aiming at your throat ready to let it go

In your ears as i kiss ya, on every curveslow down baby don't rush, i like it slow

Smokin' weed and bamboo, sippin' on private stock

Pass it round, counter-clock, let her show her titties, stop

Fuck these gomers, our country's run by stock brokers.

Now, if you was the last man walking on earth

So chase the air hide your stash

Shitting his stock of cash out his ass

Golf wang kill them all nigga, triple six

The most brokest cold stock broker winter solstice

But hows this, your the laughing stock

Uhh! yeah smokin yeah i should stop