This is a song about "The choppah"

They just be eager for money they ain't trynna jesus' mother

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

We buying they hoes bags, getting they bitches shoes

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

On the slow jam of love

Where the fuck the chorus

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Hold my pistoland wrap your arms around a nigga

You're fucking with me, nigga

I bring the heat like the

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

And be the last nigga left, then i'll be ghost

Here's the answer and the antidote:

The bigger the the fun

Yeah bitch this date's done