This is a song about "Degree maps"

Couldn’t adapt to naps, i wear caps

Relapse, collapse, brain maps

Leave you lost in this jungle giving none of you maps

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

Tired of making money, i'm on to making history

Who can only stand new hip-hop to a tolerable degree

Girl, you got me in a trance

Direct shit like google maps

It's no longer a new jack city

Ill leave ya with a burn thats third degree

B.i.g. said it; so i entertain like cedricstandin on the trunk roof top unit city

Luckily i'm a master of dispatchin', got a "send them to the pound" degree

Burn rappers with a third degree... never agreed with the industry

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

The furnace be permanently burning g's to the 3rd degree

And the life i live is hell see, i never thought i'd see