This is a song about "Birthday cake and clubbing"

I get my paper, y'all just hate

Saying life's a piece of cake

Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate

So that's 2 mistakes 1 big headache and 1 sorry mom cake to bake

In my basement and abuse a whore, "eat the cake #anna #mae",

Cause i'mma look that part until i'm all broke, yea

Easy as cake you are fake and hissing like a snake

And we gonnna toast up for the niggas that hate

I can teach you all the sounds of love

Now you buying birthday presents

Load em up quick, it's time for us to spray

You ain't even call me on my birthday

Now you can't cake no moe

Ok you think a nigga shallow

Shoutout yo baby momma, that bitch is sorta fine

Like a rhyme with birthday and first place then they call that sublime