This is a song about "Eatin at wendy s"

I ain't sayin' namesthey say the tape was really mine

Bonded with the children of zion, my mind is s-s-s-so divine.

Eatin' rations infested with rats poppin' aspirin and captains

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

It’s sick and spiteful, 2pac’s twisted grim disciple

And we no la de de da i don't care for any people

Till you scream " what s my what s my name whats name!!!!

Got the fridgedest temperature on my wrist again

They get mad when i lay up in the porsche box

Got these amateurs eatin out of my palms

Yeah, waiting for a change to come

Gods of cold like we eatin ambrosian,