This is a song about "Ginger ale"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

But that's reality.

Under pressure i don't sweat like my pores shut

She got a gentlefella - real vanilla but

They say them colors must be fake

I don't care about your grade,

And that only consists of zero tragedy

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

Left me like a blank white paper

Stir up all these feelings inside of her

A lot of women from conversation could fall in love

In case, i get replaced, i'm a book with blank pages,

Read in between those blank sheets of paper, then you’ll see,

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree