This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

We got money to go get baby

Part of my heart beat, inside of me

She say she love me more than anything

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Right flows down and they might go nice

Top of my pile of bodies

See, and now life seem hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

It's like i'm owner of

Always knew where the pot was

I could spend a whole damn advance on some kicks and some pants son

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

Tired of the pain tired of the struggle

Just got up and screamed, fuck the world

Of being of always getting wired