This is a song about "Whippin my wris"

Baby you summertime fine, i'll let you get on top

Catch me in the kitchen whippin with a gold pot

Since napster the sales been crashin' and

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

I’m effervescent, just ask them

My words are my rhythm

Drinkin' 40's, whippin' shit, and talkin' shit, their overtones,

Heneesee, makes me think my enemy is getting close

Got my head in my hands.

Cause if i shoot blanks, oops, thanks

But five years from now i bet she see

These my rhymes and my story

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

You is not hip then i can not coach her

So you snap like mewhen these devils try to plot

In the kitchen whippin boy stupid hot