This is a song about "Eight grade"

But i do quite well with all the bait

I don't care about your grade,

Busta-ass motherfuckers tried to flee

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

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

She say all men treat her wrong way

We'd have you fallin' and now you scrapin' from that kemba shake

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

We gon' rep the city of folarin straight, that bait

Wisest to be rappin since mac was in fourth grade.

Knocked down seven times, and i get up eight

Give me dome, then let me skate

She said she want it now, well girl it's hammer time

Seven eight nine, eternity is mine

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

Lost my mother wen i was barley eight