This is a song about "Fitting in"

It's a fools fatewithout your word

I'm in high rhymes schools your're in third

Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works

In the country , in the villages , in the earth and universe

Rappers in my trunk i packed in six

So here i am at the store for some chips

Visions, dreams of passion

That the villains are pulling in

Phone in his hand, coffee in his spleen.

The bitches is everything in between

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done

Fitting that you're the tutor cause i'm serving you a lesson

Fitting of my eminent stature

Then the stars don't even matter

You'd be better off fitting this dick in your mouth

So grab ya friends and let's take ya back to my house