This is a song about "Being a sick rhymer"

When my competition ain't much

Rhymer who's "simple" in knowledge.

That i'mma pay for with dimes, nickels and quarters and shit

To being a being and beating the back roads and being #it

Now you's a sick lil dude

Keep your mouth locked, screwed and glued

A struggling writer, who's can't be shit as a rhymer/

Madonna momma, body bottled, you're fine. i'm finer

If you ever feel alone and

//sick of these topics not being discussed

Visualizing being a college graduate,

Then i'm bustin' like an uzi when i'm thru with that shit

While i'm rubbing on that ass

Thick lips and a sick class