This is a song about "Talk to the hand"

You didn't even talk to me on the phone

Gets older, bolder, and cold cause he's left alone

Fast money like zakat al-fitr, break fast

Bounce to the dam slap an ounce in me hand,

To get to hold your hand

They could never understand

Hand to hand in the cold

This shit would leave rosetta stoned

I did a little stint, shout out to the south east

Guess who has the upper hand when its time to feast

Or just another one of my black jesus traps

Not only am i here to talk the treatment of blacks,

Just lay back, get your face slapped

When they give the grammy in my hand.

Get the r. kelly tape and see how we piss on you

They aren't the kind of people i like to talk to,