This is a song about "Lakeforest records"

My records sell, yes sir

Bitch i'm on fire

My records sell, yes sir

And you know i paint that picture

Truth be told, i'm only seventeen years old, my heart is bold, i keep tryin to stay gold,

Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold

Bring back record sales, i sail while i break records

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

Baby you summertime fine, i'll let you get on top

And ask to see his tax records, they'll make you bound to walk,

You wear a shirt, my records even in a jail

Heard you might be comin home, just got bail

Beware your existence im a villian i know your feelin this dont sqeal lil

Because i'm weary of seeing all these rappers spitting on records with no skill

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

So if it comes down, may the best man win