This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Just ya picture though, you still taped in a lake

Because of my constant fear of being betrayed

Looking for dangerously hot bitches and safe sex

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Messing with ouija boards triangles and the kay kay kay

As you sit and pray, hoping the beatings'll go away

And i don't care if she gone, in a long skirt

Of being of always getting wired

Using blacks of course was of wide appeal

I like to ask the bad bitches if they ass is real

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Ballin, folarin so goddamn hard