This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

Thoughts of immortality

I like my girls smart, skinny

Epic, they used to feed me detours

I'ma part of yours i'ma tale of yours

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

A working genius, a work of art

And getting money is the song i sing

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

You're uncool like my mother kin

Thought of, cuz it's sort of...an addiction,

Cause there could never be peace

Top of my pile of bodies