This is a song about "Strange crystal music money tank gang"

Strange fruit grew from wicked roots, you'd fiend for money trees

So i got my camera on your cameltoe say cheese

And my hadukid is watch how i do them, see

Music is done without love but is done for the money

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

I pry my eyes from that crystal glassed mirror.

Why are you talking about your gang

Put burners in the hands, of the black man

The world seems strange at times

Wale they call me tiger stripes

Cause i'll kill if i find out you're watching some other movies, bitch

You think you're hip, you got that tank at abercrombie & fitch

Music is my money, and i'll never stop until my system stops running

With feelingsthis a mans world youngin'the bitches in businessso learn a 'lil something

See the feds and tap out that's wrestler shit

Music is money, money isn't music