This is a song about "Having sex with a block of cheese"

A depressed mess accepting empty sex and left bereft of love expressed

Why'd you slang crack? cause i had toa nigga gotta pay the fuckin rent

Give me tall glass, coconut ciroc, please, no soda pop

Tupac is cryin' in his grave, i'm at a rave with a ton of sun block,

All you fucking bloggin' faggots yappin' up that extra shit

Like a kid with parkinson's playing jenga the way i block it

Find me on the block being part of a statistic.

I'm seeing things that's being mean making me sick

Yo yo, type fast, i dip dabs, having a laugh, taking a blast, of smoke,

Bitch you're barely breathin' leavin' on the back of the boat

And i don't know no triple h, but this is all about the game

But we jus maintain with faint thoughts of having better pain

While i chill with the crew. wake up in the morning having learned a life lesson

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done

Having sex till four o'clock in the mourn but u still checking your phone

Young money, cash money so strong, keep scorin’, i’ma bring it on home