butter

Breaking down a Belgian waffle with the fork on a Masi Seats butter, sliding through the city slower than syrup Said she never drove a foreign, told her give it a whirl The Miami wind whipping, tryna straighten her curls She roll the window up Dutch Pot, bouta pick some dinner up Oxtail drowning in the gravy like the hands in the bustdown Lotta people tryna rekindle because I'm up now But if they were solid they woulda stuck 'round Navigating the real and the fake kinda exhausting My DMs full of sheep and wolves in wool sweaters Used to send links to my music like chain letter Crazy I don't gotta do that no more My chain wetter than Rick Barry from charity stripe My spam filter overloaded tryna handle underhanded advice This rap money make it hard for me to manage my vice Food and fashion, for the listeners asking Got the Uber Eats Pass because them niggas was taxing Safe to say my music gaining some traction Tell my mom about my progress just to hear her reaction She don't care that I'm stacking She know I'm following my dreams and she just love that I'm happy February I was looking into PhD programs at Yale Almost left the game, rapping wasn't paying my bills Now it is, so my GRE prep got derailed Maybe I'll come back to it at the end of my trail