This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

Out of mind out of sight

Don't worry just done get inside

Shaved of the face of the earth

Babies turn into shooters

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

And by the way i'mma start

When i die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch benz

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Part of my heart beat, inside of me

They gotta point em out baby

Scoop pills, 5 g's on a phone bill

Reaping the humans of leaps of good will

The look of no hope on my niggas' faces

Of which im not exactly proud of,

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

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that