This is a song about "Metamorphic rocks for kids"

Then the gun shot, but i wasn't hit

Yeah, for the kids going through shit/

And i'm still hurtin over pops

And grow up to smoke rocks.

More props. r.i.p., my poor pops

Go on get lost, kick rocks,

Some kids knocked his bottle over for the last time

In a turtle neck, thermal jeans, spit purple wine

This is for the kids who grew up with nothing

What i'm wanting, and i'm trying to see something

Stirrin' a crock of shit like the rocks for the cops to rob 'em,

Just put on one of me or big sean's cds and roll me some

Kick out the kids, all three, thankyou for the new life

She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice

"no need for google, the kids a search engine"

So next time i come, i'll bring you one