This is a song about "Make it sparkle like the fourth of july"

Put the gold in a heater make it melt like plastic

I'm recordin' that shit on the fuckin' little mic

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

I mesomorph, into a dwarf, after engulfing the fourth quartz.

Sippin then call a cab nobody know their limit

This shit ain't all i got, but imma make the best of it

Like a detective just to try and make sense of it

And tell them bitches we real niggas is bout that

I'm not an asshole i just don't give a fuck a lot

Spelling like a fourth grader skipping every dot

It's all what you make of it, see how shit affects the future?

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

Whips ain't shit but my kicks look sick

Oh ya, like that, make it thick

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

Cause you can't even rap in the fourth grade band