This is a song about "How lame pop songs are"

I've been so tired, all my songs are so blatant and cold,

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

I've been so tired, all my songs are so blatant and cold,

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

For multiple years, witness peers catch gunshots

Mr. happy pop nice songs, i'll drop hip hop pipe bombs

Pass it round, counter-clock, let her show her titties, stop

How much shit is he going to cop before it starts to pop

I gotta tell you right now

Your friends are left wondering how

The radio is lame, and the record labels are to blame, they just want fame

Notice everything it wasn't. realizing why it shouldn't ever be again

But i'm a dreamerhave you ever seen a nigga who was strong in the game

I've gone insane have a half a brain my raps are awesome yours are lame

How your songs though? you never spent a day in the bing

That skate hard, thrash black hoodies, try something