This is a song about "Getting out of sch"

And i'm strollin' down south like good luck chuck

But instead of getting hi as fuck

To get out that beast, getting me blest

Life has put her to the test

I diddy bop and make them titties pop

Dancing for the bars while you out getting shot

But the same deposition take it every time

Yea,i'm that guy trying to rhyme keeps getting abit out of line

Im getting stacks of money everyday.

She sit up at her desk on perez all day

But now im getting out and shouting till my lungs collapse

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

No rubber sole, hardwood bastard

Of being of always getting wired

Vegetation getting thick ima pull out my machete

Who didn't really care to see, or give a damn if she