This is a song about "Stale bread"

When you fly as a bitch

Got that bread, meat, cheese, sandwich

City bread just like the rangers

Let's enjoy our younger years

Damn ima need some sweats to carry all my bread

And if you had more street cred then you'd be dead

You frail artist, ima get rid of ya stale garbage

‘fore he hit the room, hear a “vroom!” from the porsche bitch

I would sleep blinded from fright, while dad was makin' some bread

Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead

But i come on the weekends, pablo jail

Laylow your a fail, your flows stale,

Third ward general, young cash money

I stay making bread, i married sarah lee