This is a song about "Whipping eggs"

So being in the kitchen whipping would make sense

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

No difference whipping you with a rag or my lyric attack,

Yet, it is forever and a day to forgive and forget one

Lil money i pay my own bills. shut ya eggs up for they rotten

So keep dreaming and whipping ya hair,

Nowhere, let's let that sucker stay out there

And everybody's having sex

Mash up the 'tatoes whilst my bitch whisks the eggs

Told my old lady to make me eggs without warning

Stand for something or die in the morning

Ain't no eggs for the batter

That damier bag i bought her

While we suffer in summer our supper is eggs

Ironic this verse was conceived while drivin’ a lex