This is a song about "Late mother"

Let em marinate, you forever late

And i was getting whipped at home in sixth grade

No never but rather late/

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

Heavens door, but i am just too late

Do you think i'm out of my mind with this tape

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

Oh girl, i think it's getting late

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

Do not delay the time is late,

I thought i recognized her

Go home to your mother

Currently back livin with my mother

The game's a bitch, ooh we got her

Girl, what you grabbing cash for

Mary jane is my mother