This is a song about "Classifications of triangles"

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

But when i knock this shit off, i'mma go and buy some laker shit

Using blacks of course was of wide appeal

A born starter, in the game for real

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Hoes pop from the corda to hope park

Alot of niggas fake who go to hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

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

Of the book of your life

Hoping that nobody don't notice

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Yeah my shit ain't no scratch and win

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