This is a song about "The sausage"

We the motherfucking best, word to my mama

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

But i'm broke as fuck too bitch, we on the same boat

Here's the answer and the antidote:

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

From the gutter to the roof

Or 5'2" hoopers in light shoes

Wale, d.c. thats me, huh

I bring the heat like the

I'm why baby mamas leave

Thinkin of the the dreams

As the king upon the throne

Yeah, he blowing up your cell phone