This is a song about "The 1nc"

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

All my shit designeri fucked your bitch in versace, nigga

We don't ever make love

Where the fuck the chorus

Its cold as shit in this booth

Saw the bombs on the news

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

I ain’t gotta lie, they know i’m the truth

The bigger the the fun

They'll have to rename this one

Put the lotion on the skin, in the acid, in the gutter,

Put that shit on whatever, we running another summer

The science and the art, africa

I bring the heat like the

And when i'm done with her, ain't no other male to compare

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air