This is a song about "Bettie page"

I never judge a murder by weapons, only the rage

And don't throw words from a dictionary's first page.

Look on your page, you really think you're boss at the top,

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

Give a speech so we're on the same page

When i pull up in that candy range

While half my mental belongs in a cage

Number of victims run off the page/

But if you rupture a tendon i bet them feelings change

I vent my anger and frustrations and thrust them on this page/

I flipped the page, scripted and made,

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

And get to work on a new beats page

1-900-wale, nigga keep the change

I run circles round these niggas' world like saturn

Your murder will be front page desert n' last page concern,