This is a song about "Bowl of bud"

I wouldn't fuck another girl out of the club

I was exceeding while you were smoking the bud,

They are all good like the best bowl of porridge.

With rhyming skills, you in amish village

Your face looks like an old bowl of spaghetti/

But five years from now i bet she see

I can hear the bells ringing off the nice dream truck

When i get stressed out i have to take a bud

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

Stack my words and pack em tight like a bowl

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

Paid well, like she supposed to, i'm a made man

She was the queen of the club

I win the bowl, pass the bowl and light up