This is a song about "Alex berushing his teech"

Who shot his best friend for calling the cops his

Welcome back to class, bitch, grab on to your glasses

Now his rank stripped and his life taken away,

What the feigns say, few roaches you need spray

Just put your hand on the glass

Shitting his stock of cash out his ass

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

Always biting his teeth, his outer lip was shrouded with countless slits

Wears his jeans below his knees

Not likely like stay long please

Praised his homie for his quick handedness

Together all the timethought it was true love

And yes, his left wrist represents the way that his day go

Everyday we party hard like there ain't no tomorrow

Should be harder to find

Took his head n' beckoned his mind