This is a song about "The philosophical science of potatoes and whipped cream"

We don't want you with skinny legs and the big ass ass shots

Cream of the crop, scheming to chop and place an mc in a box

You dream of cream and obscene fuck scenes

Spit selvage my nigga, it's in my jeans

So when i spit the message and leave it and drop the science,

Black on black nikes that represent the lifeless lives

Then keep your change like an oink machine

But... what's oreo without the cream?

But... what's oreo without the cream?

Cause no man's eyes should see what i've seen

And put together a million march for some gangsta shit

I'm cream of the crop but the ladies just don't realise it,

And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream.

People don't condone what they've never seen

Waiting on mom to bring me the aspirin from a trampoline jump

It's a mix of art and science that i use to drop bombs and make scenes silent,