This is a song about "Eight"

Your bitch only like you cause she thinks you getting paid

But the meg count's off half down to one twenty eight

Get a glass and put chris on, yea

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

Had to say it twice, its gettin' late

Yeah that's right it was a cat fight. two one eight

Knocked down seven times, and i get up eight

Early adapters agree they all late

I done came too far to regard me as the regular

I take home billions and pay my workers eight bucks an hour,

We take our seats, in the first row out of eight

Yeah, i think i'mma cop me that new estate

I was only eight when mamma had to move to amsterdam

Them ignorant thrashing mothafuckers is my gang

Eight in the evening and we're up smoking

And my only fear's a wedding ring