This is a song about "Tricky whit it"

Gotta learn from my mistakes, rhymes must become more tricky/

To be rich like a king, and live my life, trouble free

Him attention but moms, yeah my momma as loyal as any sister would come

I emit confusion with my whit i'll have you trippin, help i've sunken

So if i'm not clubbing, don't think i'm on some jerk shit

Y'all could never admit it, forget it, spit it, i writ it,

Twists it, turns it, beats it, burns it, tortures us in silence

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips

And mansions on the fault line of a shaky market

Inappropriate, so be it, i don't see it

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

Stop it, drop it, because i shot it.

Realize i'm facing a tricky situation

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

If you want it i got it

How bout we blow this bit