This is a song about "My school class"

And people tell me "sit down" every time i raise my hand in class,

Damn near look like a god damn dump truck on the back of your ass

Hella proper, my garment is propeller of chopper

The working class section, and my parents blue collar,

And in akron, my niggas they would throw things

I just roll my weed up, and try to school my peers

My foster father says devan, wake up for school

Odd future young enough to get your priest mouth drool

Than anything ms. teacher said in my math class

I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass

The straight life's like a sedative, everything's cool

Fuck outta here i writer better shit on my way to school

On they twitter writing novels, see

Shunned by the high class cause my spit is filthy

Easy baby. you the bomb and all, but i be damned if i do not land mine

Yeah i'm 15 and you're twelve, you in the middle school, i'm high school, my prime/