This is a song about "Wick3d records"

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

Now i'm putting out these records so that hood shit is explained,

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold

We had ya pussies flinching before the records started sending.

If everybody play their position, we can win this thing

And i’m talkin, passenger action

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

And ask to see his tax records, they'll make you bound to walk,

Couple of foreign cars that i ride, no top

My records sell, yes sir

Now paint that picture

It's kinda fresh you listen to more than wale

You wear a shirt, my records even in a jail

Aiyyo i argue with my mother, spring, summer, fall, winter time

I rap just to pass time mat ta fact i used to sell records for a dime,