This is a song about "Sunday lunch"

To understand that the fucking faggot didn't like me much

Cause we left those class rooms a bit early for lunch

Rhyming in my spare time, resting on a sunday,

And i ain't trying to hear what you wanting to say

Murder bet i wrote her, kudos to the killer

I eat haters for breakfast, lunch, dinner

Tsa be laughing all them rubbers in your luggage

Too many bitches want a date for lunch

For a perfect mother’s day

Oh lord like it's sunday

Never agree with that message

Bam! too late! now its time for lunch.

Its lunch you bitches still eating brunch,

Lying to yourself, all over an image