This is a song about "What are those"

You have to understand those bakers are not only here to bake

Cause by then it's just too late, there's so much we can take

Those fucks didn't learn, so you see, you get what you earn.

I killed my manager with an iron

I tell em "honey, i no cher" i'm so sunny

Those bitches are on standby gasping fucking breathlessly,

Those words are real not crack,

Top dropped down, black on black

No, no, we are not those

Big money, i’m talking bad hoes

I dont know what those are, dont ring no bells

I’m callin’ on you ’cause i can’t do it myself

How can i persuade more heads to hear this great shit

*angel* hell no, eric, those goals are generic,

Find your number in my phone and don't know what be goin wrong

This instrumental hits me man, those memories are long gone