This is a song about "Black excellence"

Where the black girls get their weaves back

And i thought i was black

I strive for excellence, unless its derived/

Baby, you don’t have to try to read my mind

Never be found. stuff you in a black

Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back

Snapple fact: you rather wack

While i freakin' spit black

They smoke black and wear black hats, with red shirts,

Still found a way to get pretty ass girls

Soft serve lyrical excellence you should observe like dem freaks from

They hate on calipari, but i never seen the problem

There a sign of excellence,

Half my peers, they're stretched for years