This is a song about "Make"

Guess what they got a choice to make

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

There’s money to make

I get my paper, y'all just hate

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

I'm make this choppa spit and make it come out her nose

Stored in his mind to make,

All dem niggas gonna hate

I surely make it fast and make their ass do the dash

But girl you’re special like i met you in the slow class

Im washin off another plate

Be thankfull for every breath you make