This is a song about "Jacob being terrible at raps"

I remember being frustrated that i was never played at shows,

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

Being wit you, life feels at its peak,

Saw puff, i was finna' speak

Coming with some proof see at yo funeral *raps in the tomb

Blood, sweat, and tears, it’ll be on your local walmart rack, soon

My two nines go biya biya when i shoot 'emkorean motherfuckers was crooked

I'm tired of being a stale white punk ass kid, that raps about poppin off the pill lid,

Took a hiatus looked at the raps and shook off the jitters

Got me feeling light headed yea nigga philip rivers

But don't expect a ring if you committed to the hustle

Whose writing better when your raps are more terrible

You're raps are under arrest for being crap are you stressed

I dont need no chains with no cross to know that i’m blessed

Most bitches, niggas call gone real or fake

While everyone fucking laughs at the raps i make,