This is a song about "The greateat"

Still the man with the pan

Big shit popping, i'm the man

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Yeahpour out a little liquor for your homies nigga

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

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

Hoping that mama would sympathize cause she broke

Here's the answer and the antidote:

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

Meet me in the tele where the lobby at, i'm probably there

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

I deserve a medal, i lap 'em every track

The water from the past is the same water in the present

Trapped in my own communityone day i'm gonna bust