This is a song about "The per"

If this was a game, i would be considered a mothafuckin' legend

And this is only the second of eleven mics i'm wreckin' per second

It starts to go downhill by 9.8 meters per second per second

I'm watching the berrics getting head from someone's parent

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

Great sex, she ain't slept, she can't rest tomorrows that big test

Take some from the early bird and start chargin per compliment/

I'm the nigga with the juice

Niggas die over shoes

The streetz is aint the safe

From where they praise

I probably would wear 'em but my dick don't fit

Criminal intent, out of breath, reach limits per minute,

And if they resort to mix-tapes, my feats'll beat 'em per cassette

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead