I'm tryna follow money, she tryna fall in love
Cause im getting paid like i'm in 12th grade, this shit endless,
Hey lil momma, what's your name, i'm wale but they call me great
You're raging an got some grammar issues go back to first grade
When i saw that 28 to put me in and out of state
And a fist full of money give it to a fifth grade
And even though we seperated, you said that you'd wait
Tricky as arithmetic was spittin' shit in sixth grade,
If they not talking no bread than we ain't listening
Bottom of the 9th and i'll still be winning
But don't let rappad lie with a falsely given grade a,
Your a shell of a mani lost respect for you nigga
Momma said i should reconsider law school
My grade six teacher was queer and not cool,
Odd future young enough to get your priest mouth drool
A little coke addict fresh out grade school
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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