This is a song about "Jacob bream"

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win

And i don't cook much but i'm tough with that phone book

Cook a verse send it out hardly a look

Show them im the king of the sea.

That's the way, you can move it baby

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Occasion when i'm blazin asian and no drops to fade it with

I keep it funky with my misses, fuck these other bitches

Just a skinny white girl,

And he, what's his name, earl

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

Raised as an asian doesn't mean that i can't spit