This is a song about "Separating mixtures"

At dinner with hov hoping that he pass the baton

Separating paradigms deprecating megatron

Your blind eyes to the prize i've dyed in mixtures/

Now i'm back on my grizzle, a plethora of strippers

Separating your body from your face then eating your name,

All them other boys targets and i'm flawless with the aim

Fresh out the chair with the clippers

Minds lucid from the mixtures

You start separating quicker with every fucking week man

Bitch i'm in the fucking mall, with my niggas eating ham