This is a song about "Biscuits and jam"

Enough fucking atheist rappers to get a nun slapped

Shit's a traffic jam, and we bomb pakistan with gats in hand,

Teaching me to jam, writing scribbles with crayons

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

And please never disrespect my set

Jars upon jars, but yet no jam for the bread.

Jam out on your damn couch

Now you know bout me, lets go to a lounge

But he ain't beggin' for itand you can't love it you can

I'll throw you in a trashcan, dump it in a traffic jam,

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

I'm gettin help for this addiction, now golf ain't important

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

I saved her number just in case but now it’s case closed

The resin in this jam session, is spooning out the venom

There has to be a place better than this, in heaven