This is a song about "The four regions of texas"

Twenty-four carats, countin cabbage, like the arabs

Usually turn out to be the fakest ones

So here i am at the store for some chips

Deep in the regions where trenches are reasons

And wonder why i ain't ever caught that feeling before

But not with a four four, but with more of a score

So if he die, and came back, would he try to save rap

And imma makes sure all four of ya tires are flat,

And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream

I got a dollar and a dream, real niggas on my team

She was new to the school i think she moved from texas

With my donald trump hair piece you're an apprentice

Leaving the country soaked with oceanic regions

The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its