This is a song about "Cleaning out your locker"

// [you can call out your guards]

Please correct me, stretch marks

Class is in session, get your notes out

In the back seat and it's getting quite loud

I prefer your applause without a handout

Punched the shit out of your consciousness, your light's out

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

I come from a city with more drugs than a evidence locker

But anyway, give me cash fag, cause i'm low on gas

In the locker room, at lunch even sometimes in class

Had a poor man swag now it’s priced right

Dawn rising, cleaning up the camp site,

God forgive and we don't, keep my circle small you can't get in my crowd

Ain't no haters to write about, just a cramped up closet that needs cleaning out.

We eatin an u cleaning all the dishes ass nigga,

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla