This is a song about "Lunch money"

Munch. this is lunch, fuck a mallet, punch,

Head for breakfast, fuck for lunch

They vaguely decipher my language

Breakfast lunch dinner, i don't do brunch

To understand that the fucking faggot didn't like me much

Because this man was murdered, he wasn't out for lunch

Streets is calling square niggas leave a message

Rise up like a zombie and eat these fuckers for lunch

When i get my hands on nines

Then back it up more then lunch lines

Yeah months in every night she's in tears

At lunch i'll follow, you feel my breath

We gon' rep the city of folarin straight, that bait

But luckily it landed in your lunch plate