This is a song about "Toast"

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

The case is closed, i'll make 'em toast, emcees rhymin' on beats,

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

B-b-back to the #future making bread out of #toast,

Where you know you hold that toast

But for long time i had gone cold

Toast, toast to the party!

Who trill as me, roll two of tree

With a little bit of passion

I toast to the part but i don't give in,

Put it on whatever bitch, me and spitta high as shit

The center of attention like a toast before the wine sip

Toast, toast to the party!

What them tippers don't see

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

Now i'm dope, wonderbread we can toast