This is a song about "Plate margins"

We’re walking past the head on a silver plate

That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape

Hold up, wait, these nikes don't got no date

But a gotta pick up, step up to the plate

Gold plate wit dat rine stone

They blowing up my phone

To add to the list of beverly hills victims

Got many bitches on my plate at once

I can't correlate the weight of being served on a cold plate,

Go ahead admit it faggot, this shit is tighter than butt rape

Another human being laying cold on the slaughter plate

And even though we seperated, you said that you'd wait

Bringing them home and across my plate

Tonight no pitchers, everything's straight

Step to the plate, witness petrifying diligence

Different stage, switching paces like i'm shifting strings