This is a song about "Throwing stones in a glass house"

You feel like kool-aid in a wine glass

So chase the air hide your stash

Shit, six bitches in a crack-house kitchen

Make them more insecure when they caught one

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

Out with the homies, cuz shorty wanna be a thug

To livin in a house with food my stomach

No bullshit, i'm mike with the mic

Im in her white house like a politic

I give him a helping hand, bring him out to thugz mansion

There’s a house on fuller street that they say he moved in

You feel like kool-aid in a wine glass

I'll hit you hooky like you skipping class

Tongue like a young jab throwing joe frazier

It's like we both forgot what we were fightin' for