This is a song about "Beech"

The poor southern white boy, he's like picasso for sure,

She pray to god every night hoping that he'll mature

Ice on our two four, you know it's too cool. time's too cruel.

I'm out my ramen noodle, we have nothing in common, poodle

I'm goin hard and i ain't playin like sega genus,

I'm goin hard and i ain't playin like sega genus,

Money stacked to the ceiling just as quick as it dispense

Being puppeteer-ed putting aside my common sense

Take it to east rutherford, then let's go to southern jerz'

Packed her bags now she live amongst entrepreneurs

And “smack a hoe”, this is common, oppressive,

Sorry to stratch a broken record, it’s hot and aggressive,

So even though you overcame doubt and ya livin' ain't bad

People give a bad fuckin' rap to old-school southern rap,

I don't want to grow up, i know that shit for a fact, nigga eighteen

I'm so fuckin' southern i could be the son of paula dean,