This is a song about "Moving to year eleven"

Nigga, so high, i gotta modify my schedule

A rock to the moving sea, you're nothing, and soon you'll

They giving niggas letters here and they ain't sending mail

Stuck in the state of limbo, moving forth to prevail,

Brand new airs cocaine white, feels so good but it ain't right

It was on april seventh, close to eleven at night.

Day turns to night a new year starts

I got these tats all on my arms

You know if you was harder than me then you'd be lead

We're leaving the old mess and moving on to the next

It was on april seventh, close to eleven at night.

But pussy and patron will make you feel alright

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

Still moving forward like a 2 year old

Moving on to better things, to better us, it better bring

The ones you left out, jobs were giving, better living