This is a song about "Dog butter"

Me and rap are close, like butter on toast

High as d'angelo notes in a ghost

Racking paper, i'm tracking money dog/

Shorty i'm a dog don't handle no broad

Ha-ha, laughing all the way to the top

And control this shit yourself dog.

No match to my flow, dog

This some food for thought

You can bring your crew motherfucker

'cause splittin ya wig is like cuttin butter,

Valerie’s legs would spread as often as butter

So i told her i got something you've been waiting for

Making this butter off these bloodsuckers

Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years

Ha, okay that 90210 talk

Where are you gonna go, dog