This is a song about "7th graders who think they ve earned their spot"

They think their bossing me but they dont know the inner strength in me

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

It just depends on who else is madder after they hear their rap shatter

When i ask him for shit, i get no answer, so god is the cancer

If i'm getting geetchi i can rock three chains on either block

As they clot their arteries, remedies from their enemies rough spot/

But who am i to ask, it ain't my spot

Free throws of money, bet you can’t block

Everyone wanna own that corner spot, strike horror to those who not

Until she figured out that she don't really like to bang cock

Think they tight, with their fancy clothes and fighting words

Ravishing, rick rude of rappin you bastards

And i ain’t gotta say i’m fly, this g5 with the crew

Preachers and teachers, who you think they speakin' to?

Weather they pissed me off or not i don't care i'll killem in the spot

Give me tall glass, coconut ciroc, please, no soda pop