This is a song about "Talkshow host"

Came from humble beginnings now its nothing but ends

Rednecks would get nervous when you would host black friends,

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

I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents

Zoning my second bottle, focused still on tomorrow

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

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

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

But what i do know, is that he's real and he lives forever

The director, host is my agenda, italian leather

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

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

To packin' up and leavin' notes, and gettin' ghost

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

Turn it upside down and open your legs if you're real cold

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