This is a song about "Roasted chloe"

Haha lots of hate, chloe

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

For real, you need to go away just like the rain song

To our own set of problems that we roasted along

I'm a poet, a genius with words, prepare to get roasted/

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

I ain't, mad, at cha

Chloe haterz, see ya

And my friends, chloe, sophie? what about fucking naomi?

And the life i live is hell see, i never thought i'd see

To our own set of problems that we roasted along

Louis v don’t see the store, going in there and leave it gone

Ur ass was roasted cause your rhymes purely suck

And i ain't shallow, material things suppress bad luck