This is a song about "Box lunch"

Runnin' numbers in a circle, proportion box,

Left chicago with good money for 5 drops

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

And i'm still hurtin over pops

Ridiculed cause i think outside the box

Got squares, dark squares cover my luggage

And i never ever skipped lunch,

Rise up like a zombie and eat these fuckers for lunch

No coach bag if i go with that, snake skin tote that cobra clutch

They vaguely decipher my language

Too many bitches want a date for lunch

The drug that they brain need

Three lunch boxes a week,

Gotta get hutch cuz he makes me lunch,

Go nuts, instrumental flow much