This is a song about "Knives and pens"

Got some pocket change too, now ya workin' baby

I vent my dreams cause the pens intense to me

I ain't gonna have ya try ta have you play me like a silly clown

And yes i am the teacher class sit on down/ take yah pens out/ n jot this down/

Guns, knives, and gear, i'm a military volunteer, now it's all clear,

Don’t grin on me wit’ them long stares, you ain’t god unless no fear

Ties up her up to a pole and puts his knives up on the carpet,

But if i did it would be bigger than earl's upper lip

But we still got kids with blades and knives/

I speak to cj often and sometimes

Shall increase when we meet up in this dark placeyou might think you're happy with him

I don't care when i was a little boy my toys were bombs knives and bitch i even

Bomaye, killa cam, my lord

Still no drugs, guns, knives or lives lost.

Vocabulary is an armory, knives like michael

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will