This is a song about "Basic cooking terms"

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box

With terms of release, bitches, money and yachts

Chickens and waffles instead, and right back to this balling shit

Ok, you smoke weed. like every other fucka here, it's basic.

I know the road i'm taking

Or be real good at cooking

They behind bars like they was cooking amphetamine

Got a pocket full of cream, my moccasin's clean

Although i’m in the land of milk and honey

Coming to terms, where we can agree

The coupe i’m in is rented, i ain’t wit’ all that commitment shit

You have no hope in this battle, you're schemes are too basic

How bout we blow this bit

Not basic i change shit

If ya interested then we got terms to discuss

Now momma told me be careful who you love