This is a song about "Large pieces of wood"

Rolling in more green than a hole in one

I have dreams of livin large like michael jackson,

And by the way i'mma start

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

But really your lyrics have no taste its like eatin a piece of wood

Two bad bitches in the back, they pretty everybody look

But more than not, and with prolly a whole lot less than the start

Three large carts full of tards crammed into an amusement park,

I'm gettin help for this addiction, now golf ain't important

Crushin up your mind into tiny pieces of brain dust

But let me thank destiny i'm still alive

To real life: large minds abroad the hardship of hard times

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Ballin, folarin so goddamn hard

Let's pretend he never scribbled on the pieces of paper,

And all that deep shit i was previously down for