This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

Dope enough to snort crack and sit the fuck still

Reaping the humans of leaps of good will

Shaved of the face of the earth

Bored of the shooters

I don't respect no brain unless we talkin' that saliva spit

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

Hey! what's your name? oh, that's nice

Of the book of your life

The vacancy that sat in my heart

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I'm a team player, i ain't tryna be no king

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Haha, i'm on the grind, niggas know the time

Instead of living this life of violent crime