This is a song about "Hegegty34vfey3wegueguyggfygeyguyvshjvwshwqy82wgehvashcvyt y uxchviydgtev"

Official-y hardly sorry laughing at garbage artists that's my hobby,

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see

Didn't want you to mistake me that's y i wrote this song

And then i'll lay you down and record soft porn

You going to the club though, you soaking in sorrow

Painting vivid pictures call me pablo y picasso,

Who dat, who dat? i got them saying

Y you bitches think that im still playing,

Fall in love with defeat, throw my endeavors on the shelf

His flow is hole-y like the edge of abalone shells

L y r i to the c

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

I skip to places, smiling faces, while you fucking walk

Its the same thing ever y day, it strikes some people as odd.

You know me, cool breeze, a nigga high

I love you only aid for you y