This is a song about "Iron chef"

No fx, in these doper than sess sessions son

Crack dealer, master chef, i own the kitchen

Chopping threw lyrics like im a masked chef

I never back up like cleo lemon on myself

I got my wife, so fuck the ring

But the chef won't let me me eat nothing

The pavement tastes like iron and there's stains on my knees

I swear my peoples keep a strapped like pinky in the movies

And if you had more street cred then you'd be dead

Swung left, no breath, chef ahead, must be fed, kept pet.

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since

Iron fist like gauntlets to your jaw for heroics

Where fiends always on that water like a lily pad

Iron sheik you niggas, make you humble break your back

My jobs quite hard but see all of its mental

No sequel iron at ya temple