This is a song about "You dry typing"

When typing i, find a writers life is, finalized

To get inside my mind, itll be really ill advised

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

Like a mouth with dry sockets

And hold on, we go longyou feel that, we get that

Girl feels me while you're typing on your rap

Otherwise you'll still be here typing all alone

It's time to turn the streets into a war zone

Cause the more intelligent part of you was left to dry on the bed,

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead

I'm in my bedroom on my small bed, just typing up lines,

Problem is i shine like two mics under heavy strobe lights

So the right to have these women, i'm entitled to their interest

He's even typing these lyrics with his finger all stitched

If you don't give a fuck, put your hands up high

It can rain somewhere else, but tonight we stayin' dry