This is a song about "Cheech and chong"

I see a young teen

Raps and beats and rhyme scheme,

Nigga, rap, you fuckin' suck probably

And a fridge and some broccoli

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

My sim card's the bomb

With the chinese: ching chong

I'm modest, and humble

And inhospitable,

This batmobile is real hard to steer

Thunder and clouds amaze and peer

And we don't know no right from wrong

I just chill like cheech and chong

And i'm dizzy and spinning

But i ain't listening