This is a song about "Making pasta"

And if you pay for that yourself

She was always making sells

But inside of my pocket is a dollar plus a dream

Making you hallucinate you're bleeding aquamarine

Why not me the same thing

A ghetto in the making.

I try to tell them i'm one of the

Last night i had some dope pasta,

She say this shit for college, i told her drop her a prada

With oodles of noodles of money paper on my pasta,

Making sure you breaks down

My name is timb aka thomas crown

Rawest practice and making

But he don't rule a thing