This is a song about "Paper plate monsters"

But a gotta pick up, step up to the plate

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

Better yet they work my every nerve

Hovering above us like monsters

'cause i don't have typical shit on my dinner plate

Type of nigga to jerk off to his own sex tape

Till i'm well-paid, bail's paid

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

Another human being laying cold on the slaughter plate

They ain't authentic, tell them i don’t even relate

And i could see you coming home after work late

All within me, that's a lot on my plate.

I chill now, cop a lil' ice later

I'm gettin paper, yeah i get paper,

You gotta pay homage in order to get paid

But luckily it landed in your lunch plate