This is a song about "Evan sinclair"

Jt: didn't get a gift for her

I'm a first class writer,

Fuck outta here i writer better shit on my way to school

Nigga, so high, i gotta modify my schedule

True player, cory mo cold as hell

I killed more time, more crack to sell

Swag-er. this is a mixtape about... nothing. not on drugs

A half-assing activist who preaches, never practices,

Now nigga, look what hell madevisions of cops and sirens, niggas open fire

There's a shortage in ur dormant thoughts, u talk alot for a 'sick' writer

I'm on my grind feeble, my music is either

You wanna make me mad? i'm a crime fighter line writer,

It's dark n' im writin barkin like i'm fightin for mike vick as my #1 critic

Did you have fun?cause i'mma need a cab just to get me homemaybe you could call in sick