This is a song about "Gift cakes"

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Here, i got your mom some wal-mart gift cards,

Bein sensible, take the ladder and pick up the cakes

I like my friends imaginary with no names

Thanks for the house and your bitch gift,

Now i’m armed and i’m fayetnam’s finest

Gift so whack,even on xmas even fake santa wont give

I’m so 100 with every nigga i run with

You can bet your bottom dollar the bottom lips will need stitches

You lost it at her, the gift you're constantly enamoured with

That's what i call it, it's full of shit

Life is a gift appreciate it,

I run shit, it happens that for rap i have some gift

If i ain't get em yet, believe their name is on the short list

Designer shit, though i’m modest, astonishing to be honest

Holy shithater i forgive your stupidity, this verse is a gift