This is a song about "Talkshow host"

The director, host is my agenda, italian leather

Maybe they know him better, or i don't know no better

But can i really call me one when i talk most to a host

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

But for most i see you as a ghost on while i be the host,

I saved her number just in case but now it’s case closed

Rednecks would get nervous when you would host black friends,

Came from humble beginnings now its nothing but ends

Wrapped around your throat, you about meet death with me as your host

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

It’s a neighborhood where nervously i host black friends,

I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents

So hood i put sugar on toast then i serve it like a host

I watched people i know pray and catch the holy ghost

Has played host to a host of the wrong, known all along though.

I got some woods in yellow, to the burbs im ghetto