This is a song about "Itching cream"

I spitting bars the metronome the money machine

So we're plottin up a scheme to get the seven figure cream

Eyes real low, just blame it on the green

And much good stuff like homemade ice cream

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

With a barrage a raps that theyre itching for like chicken pox

Stuck on the cream like bavaria

Im no angel, my hoes like a sega

Well maybe just that one motive, you know about cream

Be my little pill and just creep into my blood stream

And my hadukid is watch how i do them, see

Been itching to kill cause of slavery

Went to sleep at seven never woke up from the dream

We're freaky leeches, no sweet peaches or cream,

Ice cream,chocolate or vanilla

If you gonna do it, do it nigga