This is a song about "Dipped cones"

Cause you must have known, i can't trust the phones

Dodgin ratchet hoes, like im dodgin these cones

Your wife's opened a new store, store's got a new mans cones,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

Yall sweeter than ice cream cones

Patron black, uh, patron jones

I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream

And some of the stuff i tried to do they had never seen

Faster and faster i heard sirens so i got back in my car and dipped

You see coming up, we ain’t have that shit to keep our mind focused

Im on. everything i spit is glittered, dipped in gold

But i did have miss medusa, she loud and she leave me stoned

I dipped my fingers in the black abyss and now i can't turn back

Woof, bitch, top doglay yo girl face on my lap, let her play with my sack

Ma's gone, pop's gone, wiggy dipped...

Beach on the weekend