This is a song about "Im the type of bitch a nigga wanna marry stay in the kitchen cooking in cleaning"

Had so much kush and ciroc, bitch, i think my heart stop

Catch me in the kitchen whippin with a gold pot

And i leave them in the kitchen

Miami nights, ain't another one

But i'm sorry for the damage i have done

Cause if this bitch isn't in the kitchen,

I got the type of bump that make a bitch wanna hump

And for the time being lets me in love with the moment

Ya nothing but a bitch, step outside of the kitchen

No fx, in these doper than sess sessions son

Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one

But it was a miracle, i ran for miles and met my crew in the kitchen

And your bitch is the type of bitch who really wanna lose

Why you tryin to read me if you see there isnt any issues

Sitting in the room, on the phone, cooking up orders

It was just the four of us uptown corners