This is a song about "Birthday cats and chocolate"

Chain, and not two, unlike that fat guy without a brain but a birthday crew.

Can’t take no more of your shit cause i can do better without you

But you gotta be meticulous, to get these critics and cats to bob their heads,

Uh, my mind still lurkin' on rappad figurin' out who to murk next

Obie trice, pour out a lil' liquor nigga

Ice cream,chocolate or vanilla

Get a glass and put chris on, yea

He died on my 16 birthday,

For the new cats to come and take the fame

I say i’m wrong, you say come again

They call it chocolate vanilla

You're fucking with me, nigga

Not being racist but your chocolate and i'm carmel

And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care

When there's only two spots and it's your birthday.

Young peyton don't huddle, still run my play