This is a song about "Guns and butter"

Stomach rumbles low, never stole the dough and butter

You see, this is for the g's and the keys, motherfucker

Yeah, see, breaking up is hard

Pull out guns and let 'em spark

In my bread and peanut butter you're the jelly in between

If i don’t make it, then somebody tell my son screen

Destined to win, get respect where i live

Im starting to see guns and knives

And my regime includes east coast

Me and rap are close, like butter on toast

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

Swear i will murk any beat

If you're black, you're always a thug, and you have drugs and guns

Somalia women ethiopian queens never could tell the difference

Rullette russian rappers and guns related they cousins,

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns