This is a song about "My yearbook covered with fakeass smiles"

I believe in converting smiles to frowns,

Hundred racks of hundreds in the stash house

Oaktown still in the motherfuckin house

I believe in converting smiles to frowns,

Shit, i use the same line, like i did again

All these fake smiles cause my heart a little pain

And dip the mashed potato covered

Red bottoms with the spike work

All them bitches converse with me off that react juice

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if god choose,

I'm ring winnin, my jeans different

All my bikes are covered in rust,

At the funeral smiles covered, their eyes flustered as the hearses cruised

The owner bout to prosecute, the niggas tell her that she's cute

From my location in space, a sphere covered in rubble

Majors misbehaving i'mma have to take it digital