This is a song about "Make poop"

Im washin off another plate

Yeah this new town cannot make

I like to poop out of my butt,

Car with no limit what

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Take it in turns just to make sure we make an emphasis

With a fistfull of poop,

Pockets probably like fried food

Way to much right here is at stake

Stored in his mind to make,

I'm laughing; you couldn't wait to escape

But when we scrap you gon make

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

The owner bout to prosecute, the niggas tell her that she's cute