This is a song about "Telly harper"

Now cook me a meal, gordon

Dub a.l.e., such a son of a gun

Am i crazy? maybe, but fucked up is how i been lately

Once again it's the sinister, cynical, minister shady

Plus my roots grow to money trees like alex haley,

Every third lady that flirt, want my chirp lately

My wrist is all red from the cutter

Malcolm sex is the devil's minister

I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood

This aint a song its a warnin to brooke, hogan and david cook

Callin' her up on the phone, quarter-dime telly nigga,

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

Highest form of respect, if you say you're not ready

Statutory rape saying don't telly telly!!!

It's obvious i'm crazy

I was kissin nikki haley