This is a song about "8th class love"

But i let off everything i have

First out the gate last back to class,

So chase the air hide your stash

I'm just fucking round in class

I think it excited her

I'm a first class writer,

I almost ended it all, i almost fuckin hung a rope n' let all 150 pounds fall

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

I been smokin' that mary jane way after class(way after class)

So while i hold this bottle of ciroc with a hand full of ass

Magic city a lil bit of change

It feels like december 8th

In 3 days the 8th bomb i've dropped

Or the fact when the money go up, it won’t stop

On a whole different class

Bring your pen and your weed stash