This is a song about "Plate boundaries"

Doin twenty to life in san quentingettin calls from my nigga mike tyson, ain't nuttin nice

Breachin' the boundaries,keepin' the groundaries, i couldn't seems to maintain refineries

Another human being laying cold on the slaughter plate

Don't give nobody no coochie while i be locked up state

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

No, i ain't, glazed donuts for luncheon, on my plate.

I got a lot of stuff on my plate,

Wu-tang gangbanged it, meth ate

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight

Ma words are like a golden medal on a golden plate

Step to the plate, witness petrifying diligence

So here i am at the store for some chips

I don't mind if you niggas hate

When i eat off ya plate

Finally i got a break and cut my first plate.

We both teenagers with the same mind state