This is a song about "Eight grade"

Been locked up eight years on the real

Quietly becoming a top tier

And a fist full of money give it to a fifth grade

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

Had to say it twice, its gettin' late

I'm level two, you're level eight

Once as a slave who imagined being free

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

Success is what i work for, and when them dudes hate

Lost my mother wen i was barley eight

Low income no bills getting paid

F a m e, i learnt that in 2nd grade,

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

Knocked down seven times, and i get up eight

Tricky as arithmetic was spittin' shit in sixth grade,

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight