This is a song about "My g s"

College degree, scores on my s a t, shit, please,

Me and my niggas swarm on you like the killer bees

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

And just maybe i will go easy on you little ( g ), cause your raps are ( o ), made my comp blow

"contemplate", i wrote about her

Put those fake nigger s to do my labor

As they pass through the glass of my neighbors five deep

When i run b-town i got size 11's on my feet

My g"s have been handcuffed,

Get ya head bust

You see now that nigga lonely

But ion show no love g

Till you scream " what s my what s my name whats name!!!!

I’m from hoover man, high as superman, shit you lois lane

Like i got an s on my chest i thank god that im still here hes my bullet

Something wicked this way comemore than an adversary i'm very quick