This is a song about "Baked potato"

Niggas clocking dollars don’t know how to read with mouths to feed

I'm mixed, bringing latvian potato skills and latino heat

And one day you're gone grow to be a rolling stone

I take it slow, get baked then say i'm never going home,

Before these motherfuckers see me sufferinbut it ain't nothin

Skin but you my friend look like as if someone peeled off a potato skin.

And dip the mashed potato covered

That we picked up at the last concert

I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows

I'm the creator of cooking people til they're thick and crispy like baked potatoes.

I'm here to wake up the people it seems you brains being baked

I'm a winner, fish in my crib, i got a winter lake

More major than frajer cakes baked; man, they got the cons right

Niggas run and hidenapoleon will provide

And he's the only nigga in this particular grade

I get baked from the moment i wake, don't tell me is a mistake