This is a song about "Eighth grade"

Tricky as arithmetic was spittin' shit in sixth grade,

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

It all goes back to when i dropped outta school

My grade six teacher was queer and not cool,

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

Cause you can't even rap in the fourth grade band

Smoke an eighth of blue dream so i'm not intense

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

I know we grew apart, you probably don't remember

Arms seller of high grade like a piff dispenser

Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina

But don't let rappad lie with a falsely given grade a,

... a white lie to a eighth try; try of success till my lies become my only success

I guess, its obvious that i will obsess over every word until i bless