This is exactly the kind of song that Yer Poppa prefers to dredge up from some previous era's silt-pile with the full intention of suggesting that perhaps all y'all suckers might've been semi-ignorant to its charms, in light of the fact that your suckerishness might've caused you to categorize it before enjoying it (or caused you to forgo attempting to enjoy it at all). It is one of many in that non-category category. The song also is neither a deep cut nor an obscurity, and thus it is now immune to the baggage of tastemaking. And that's cool, yo, because he talks about dudes who like to fight with pool cues. That rules, bro. INTERNAL RHYME BLITZKRIEG, POPPA STYLE. Anyway:
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