This is a song about "Wick3d records"

We had ya pussies flinching before the records started sending.

Only thing omitted is a baby or a wedding ring

Death row and other evil records use lethal methods

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

I'm trynna beat up every beat until my feet at the top

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

You just working with the scraps you was given

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

Coming, shady records muthafucka we gone bitch

But what we did was found our niche and made a stitch

Chomping at your oxygen chords

I'm rapping for royal records

You wear a shirt, my records even in a jail

It's kinda fresh you listen to more than wale

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

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised