This is a song about "Corbin and food"

Nigga, rap, you fuckin' suck probably

And junk food that's been feeding me.

Have to move that bitch so far she need a postcard

And pawn shops and thrift stores and food lion, nail it hard,

And thats why i got all this food on my tray, nigga

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

Mother can't afford to bring food and medicine

Shit and run back to the lab, need assistance from

Pockets morbidly obese, i'll be tourin for loot

No doctors and lawyers or nurses and cops, just fast food,

Flower bomb detonator iv tech in route

And in this game you the gators' food

He lives of food vendors and shelters, rendered by grouts that reckon,

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done