This is a song about "Spaghetti mansions"

I ain't got fancy clothes, cars, mansions, or j's on my feet,

I'm the dream catcher but nothing but nightmares i caught, go to sleep

In the face of adversity, i prepared a verse to see

These niggas think they coming home, they must have never seen spaghetti

I'll bury you, got mansions up in alaska with the caribou

I don't wanna ever come down from this cloud of loving you

Mansions maids mercedes

That'll do anything that i please

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips

Papa aren't you proud of me i got 5 mansions

Another ratchet got dumped, in the trashcan i ain't done

Now he’s living in mansions off his inventions and your decision,

Then i vomit on your t shirt like it's mom's spaghetti

And i don’t know why you sucker niggas can’t see

Money, mansions, girls and golden retrievers

Better yet they work my every nerve