This is a song about "Carmel corn"

Playing in the corn, wake up call

I'm that nigga y'all - i just ball

Ten more depending on where wale going

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

‘cause that’s the case i'm known to pack a tool as well

Not being racist but your chocolate and i'm carmel

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates

Leave yo brains lookin like some mushy corn flakes

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

Sitting forlorn, treating your dick like corn man you need god

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

And i have forsaken my marriage, now she gon take me for loot

While im eating an ear of corn

Everyday a star is born