This is a song about "The trutrh"

And my regime includes east coast

Here's the answer and the antidote:

That gal want me ride har

Down the street to the car,

From the gutter to the roof

Niggas die over shoes

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

Ready to bust, in the city you don't know who to trust

Where the fuck the chorus

I think found where your mind was

No soprano, half black half white, i’m a piano

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

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

This is for my niggas gettin' high on the regular