This is a song about "Bowl cut"

There’s no looking out, got cut,

What a mess! but we clean in the club

Your flow is synonymous to what's in my toilet bowl

One of the coldest, the gracing on that pole

See i know when the harsh reality take it's toll

Your shit's old, like it's in the toilet bowl

And separately i'd like a bowl of doritos

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

Bowl after bowl an i'm hitting another gram..

You say the art's dying, nah brother buy an album, the plan

Like a super bowl referee, but i don't see any penalties.

Still hear that laughin' under breath while the orlando police

I know just what you need nigga that know when to leave

Serve em with my bowl of lead mixed with rice krispies

The day before is better than the present

Bueller dwells, but i cut school to cut screws through a weld.