This is a song about "We dippen"

We so famous we don't pay stamp tax/

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

We getting paid like we knew we would

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

Til we strike out, we just hoping we don't strike out

And when they try to get parental and start talkin' loud

Don't understand why we do what we do

I call em up, they might fall through

We would laugh, we would cry, we would fight

Pussy and patron make you feel alright

We thought we were one but we was really two/

For a brick or two, really put an end to you

I ain't dissin' you dog, i'm dismissin' you

And we must do what we gotta do

Got your baby mama sending nude pictures

We going back like we stuck in reverse,