This is a song about "Chef neft"

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

Nigga with too much to say, you might make a fool of yourself

I want to fight the music on this one

Crack dealer, master chef, i own the kitchen

While you fucking with mei'm a self-made millionaire!thug livin', out of prison

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

But the chef won't let me me eat nothing

Blood been rushing, i'm thinking 'bout loving

They'll tell you i'm a legend in the flesh that dress to impress

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

New rolls royce, royce, yeah i'm all that

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

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

See i can’t keep you baby girl i'mma confess

I don't know what ya'll heard, but hip hop ain't dead

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