This is a song about "Indirect characterisation"

And what i lack in piety, i make up for in character,

Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her

You come to rappad to pound keys into submission, typing to release another hopeless defeat,

Everybody's droppin' got me knockin' on heaven's doorand all my memories, of seein' brothers bleed

Fuck "created equal", hate the people, need "spy detection",

So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin

Just went back to collegeshe is my dancer, when she dance i throw her dollars

But you seemed to neglect the indirect correct intellect of this sect of doctors.

This declaration, a representation of my dedication/

You killed the nigga, i stole a bible, is that a sin

If a could gucci mane would be ma character

You is not hip then i can not coach her

Otherwise you'll still be here typing all alone

Better than college, after that, students home

Hopin' that my niggas see

The indirect absurdity