This is a song about "Cakes that ass"

All that counts is that head up your ass,

Nickel bag full of sess weed laced with hash

Bein sensible, take the ladder and pick up the cakes

I like my friends imaginary with no names

A is for assholes assisting ass clowns, true that

Lying to the children when she know you ain't the dad

I work at, i work fast, you twerk bad, hurt that ass

But anyway, give me cash fag, cause i'm low on gas

A favorite of my homies when we floss on our enemies

You thought that i was done with completely being an ass? please

That fat ass looks juicy and round

Can't seem to find a solid ground

Quit playin games gurl you got my head spinnin round

You can't handle that i'm about to whoop your ass without

Damn, you rap shit, crying gangsters, the type of ass that

So as soon as i hear y'al on some real pro black