This is a song about "Fourth of july"

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

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

I mesomorph, into a dwarf, after engulfing the fourth quartz.

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

Beaches of normandy.

And losin all his money

And of course, my car's off course

But as time goes back and fourth,

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Took me a while just to write those

Of which im not exactly proud of,

These cops is bad boys, baby just like puff

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm why baby mommas leave