This is a song about "Jacob bream"

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king

There's children dying and i am crying

So close i could give flip a play

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

You gotta go all day for that gold

After every show, a dream she hold

Lifestyles of the kid who never had shit

You claim you a thug crook a drug cook you ain't it

Your gonna be on top nigga

Droppin dime gold digga

Who baby momma's a rat, and who got killed last weekend

She couldn't really cook but that woman tried her best

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

Rearrange yo rocks you got a gang of friends, money

I never wore a kufi, ignore my religion

You find yourself thinking more about the children