This is a song about "Guitar class"

First out the gate last back to class,

See her man face-to-face through the glass

I can play binary search better than guitar

Still knock them out the park like a fucking tow car

I'm a first class writer,

And the food could have been finer

Spun guitar strings, wrapped around your neck

Your bitch, she ugly, i kick her out the bed

No one-half and i hate math

Along with the whole class

Your fuckin’ neighborhood doesn’t determine your social class,

With the dickerson mask would be getting in the ass

And when it come to the cash

On a whole different class