This is a song about "Eight"

End these weak niggas like a mofuckin' friday

My path's in eight lanes, eight chains, great word play

With your flashlight, tell me what do you see

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

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

I like a down-lookin, all for it, flower bomb

Eight full rounds of birthdays, a first grader

She still don't know i made sarah to strangle her

Now i'm self made; and i'm high paid

Knocked down seven times, and i get up eight

One two three four five six seven eight nine

It was just fate cause it wasn't my time

You're level two i'm level eight we don't equate

No days off is time gone, trying to get my paper straight

Figure eight clocks, see the hourglasses stopped

Cause what is love if you ain't discover love at heart