This is a song about "Ratchet hoes haters chef curry ferarri flames"

Cause you must have known, i can't trust the phones

Dodgin ratchet hoes, like im dodgin these cones

But she gon’ get this dick and chew me up just like some double mint

Had too much curry but got lucky, i sullied the sponge equipped

And last but not least please don't tell no one

Crack dealer, master chef, i own the kitchen

I'm brown and i like curry

Looking at your money

Bats and hatchets at the ratchet rappers, automatics,

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

So now i show you off to the block no fronting

But the chef won't let me me eat nothing

Chopping threw lyrics like im a masked chef

Bitch, don't mess this up for yourself