This is a song about "License plates"

And i don't take these bitches out, i make pajama dates

So your last resort is to eat off other niggas plates/

I like my glasses filled, as if it has to spill

My raps are so deadly they gave me a license to kill

I don't do dishes but i throw away your mothafuckin plates//

But whenever there's pain, that feeling forever remains

Here i go again, falling in love again

No permit but i gotta license to kill them

Can't use the phonecause i'm sure someone is tappin indid it before

Eating competition like a carnivore three plates deep coming back for more

No beastie boys, i don’t need no license to be ill.

So i spend it real fast, cause i’m tryna sit and chill

Hold it..now thank you for silence

Uh huh you need a license

Off his edge chipped plates, he catered with his invisible "mate"

Control our mental states, settle down and set it straight