This is a song about "Meal"

So keep fronting till my peeps come

Now cook me a meal, gordon

I be way out in cali, got hoes of all types

I dare a nigga try to make a meal outta whats mines

I phone home to the real they wanna know just how it feel

Appeal and im not looking for a man but i get the meal

East coast, still them w's just raised up for real

All the hoes kneel beggin for their next meal

Full course meal ingesting the pain

I'll never call you bitch again

Stuck dealin to get a meal an a bomb to burst, now tucked in by a fuckin lie

Just thanking the holy fatherhe made a star and shita youngin still ain't die

And i'm about to fill y'all in on the real

Can't finish meal gotta english feel

Phone home shawty you know you a brother out of here

Yall still a few fries short of a happy meal