This is a song about "Eight"

At twenty eight i'll have plenty of taste

But they sold jello in the paint

D.c. pg is with me see that bentley that ain't mine

One two three four five six seven eight nine

Out came some shit looking like a lincoln log eight feet long,

And spit it the way i do simp-a-ly because i like this song

I put it to your mug, and it ain’t gonna wait

I chose to make mistakes at the age of eight

We both teenagers with the same mind state

"here's my address, meet you at my place at eight"

I got many chicks, blue and black penny kicks

You were just found with eight bullets in your left ribs

He looked up at me like i was crazy, i said listen man

I was only eight when mamma had to move to amsterdam

I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape

I'm level two, you're level eight