This is a song about "Une merde de chien dans une grosse bouse de vache"

Fakes try to put me on de-frost, they be glossed,

I like the way they dribble up and down the court

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

De ja vouz, i could vision my killa crew, more hospitable, consciously

I can eradicate a village if you give me a beat, huh

And eventho tha tints locced, i'm rollin in de honda/

Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/

Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans

Go for mine, that ball shit, pour ciroc 'til i'm nauseous

Left u de-formed,senseless like wayne's chorus