This is a song about "Peaches"

I spitting bars the metronome the money machine

We're freaky leeches, no sweet peaches or cream,

My flow ceaseless dough needless but still save it like its peaches/

I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz

I’m lost without them, when they around i am charles sheen

Wicked roots up under me, it was mean, no peaches, cream,