This is a song about "Cooking mama"

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

You cooking for angels, always a legend, rockin heaven

My balance be so tight rope

But lil' mama so dope

I try to tell them i'm one of the

We're lookin out for your babies mama

I thought mama taught ya,

I ain't, mad, at cha

Pushing in my mama van

Money long from here to japan

And smoke it while you're cooking meth, it flows with ease,

And we done shed so many tearslost many peers no memories

This is not somethin that i wrote for tha queens

You say i'm in the kitchen.. cooking up shit to splinter creeps