This is a song about "The harlem saint"

Stalkin santa cause i could give a fuck for saint nick,

Either that or they 4:4, some call them fantastic

I'm a blessing but no i ain't a saint

But they sold jello in the paint

She blushed, the clothes came off, and i bust heri'm up now, ready to get drunk on the block

Lunatics the harlem globetrotters and there's no myths and the other guys got

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

Faces, sex on the white sand beaches of saint thomas, though this ain't

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

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

I live by the code: fuck bitches, love queen

We all the same the blacks the whites the something in between

You're in the presence of a player, i'd rather be ya nigga

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

My name hold weight and you don't really keep the bar raised

Enemies wanting to finish me, mind your self as a saint,