This is a song about "The turban"

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

We missed you on the charts last week, damn, that's right you wasn't there

The streetz is aint the safe

Don't you fall from grace

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

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq

That's how we make it right

In the face of the outside.

Hell yahtry to dirty up my name

The realist in the game

Shout out bobby on hundreds

Turban wearin cowards

Goadome nikes, the cortazone of the poem writer

Dial the humidifier, arrange the amplifier/