This is a song about "The splits"

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

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

You niggas comedy, i'm laughing at you probably

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

You can mix 'em all together you would still be twice as bad

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

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

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

You made me wanna

I bring the heat like the

You would think that i had a match for a tooth

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

From the bench to the ball

Wanna fuck em all

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Aroma, strong enough to bring ‘em outta coma