This is a song about "8th"

Okay, bad grades, good grades, it's 8th grade, lil boys out here tryna get laid, but all

Bottle of wrong-ful, reflection of this bitches head swinging on the wall,

It feels like december 8th

You see i promised that i'd never change

I was a fucking dumb 8th grader

Folarin, the muse of the hater

In 3 days the 8th bomb i've dropped

Try and pull me over, i will not stop

Its important we communicate, intentions to be forever but never cannot wait

I i used to be that guy sitting on a crate, shotting of an 8th trying to get myself paid,

And showing you and yours that breaking rules is fucking cool again

8th grade i never missed a day, now i’m abstract like a malaysian plane.

They ain't authentic, tell them i don’t even relate

Just got another henry the 8th while it's weighing great,

A white lie through a struggle to a 8th try

You can pick apart my raps, i ain’t told ya na’ lie