This is a song about "Corn flake"

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

The owner bout to prosecute, the niggas tell her that she's cute

They said im guilty, i ain't get the chance to say im not

Sitting forlorn, treating your dick like corn man you need god

Leave yo brains lookin like some mushy corn flakes

But everybody’s self-made carved their own names

Pass it round, counter-clock, let her show her titties, stop

While he lobs corn on the cob up into his fat fuckin' gob

While im eating an ear of corn

Everyday a star is born

So if it comes down, may the best man win

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

Get you high, keep it on the low

Is it a corn row or a fro