This is a song about "Chef biy"

And if you had more street cred then you'd be dead

Swung left, no breath, chef ahead, must be fed, kept pet.

Different chef, same pot bro, not guianese buddy

Away the tragedy, so i stay sucker free

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

Was thrown into my closet, to make room for the chef.

I keep it crackin like denny's eggs, cuz im the chef,

Like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress

Shit i represent is killin' niggas and shit

I won't say i won't eat it if you chef it

I'm grand theft auto, racketeering, larceny, conspiracy, murder one

Every body a chef,it's a stretching mission in your nana's second kitchen

Was thrown into my closet, to make room for the chef.

But i can't keep you baby girl i'mma confess

Chopping threw lyrics like im a masked chef

What the bloodclot, tommy frazier fuck yourself