This is a song about "Butter"

At least i'd be stable, yeah, slightly less popular

'cause splittin ya wig is like cuttin butter,

I got the rusty butter knife so he could feel all the pain.

Od'd on that mitchell-ness you thought it was '03 again

Valerie’s legs would spread as often as butter

The red album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her

Hostile with them hoes, i got a dollar in my pocket plus a dream

In my bread and peanut butter you're the jelly in between

Everybody finger point in your direction

Smother it with butter and cook it for my next of kin.

Last time i check, that was the biggest racist party

And a flow like a butter fly that stings like a bee

That god isn't finished with me yeti feel his hand on my brain

I got the rusty butter knife so he could feel all the pain.

Minutes slipping like butter, time turning the wheel

My fame's no mistakesince the deal