This is a song about "Going to 8th grade"

Okay, bad grades, good grades, it's 8th grade, lil boys out here tryna get laid, but all

Dream, catchin this flow like hakeem, catches a football, its time to crawl,

My pistols represent mebust until my rounds emptyback for the street fame

8th grade i never missed a day, now i’m abstract like a malaysian plane.

I could keep going but im going to stop instead

Make my women follow dreams, pussy popping follow head

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

Wisest to be rappin since mac was in fourth grade.

Misdemeanored that twenty bag of weed

To abbreviate, a grade "a" on that worksheet

Im going to get some head

My voice make her wet

I don't care about your grade,

Im washin off another plate

K o d, m i a, twenty racks, let it fly

A white lie through a struggle to a 8th try