This is a song about "Nust fm your campus"

Everything was picture perfect till you moved the frame

Separating your body from your face then eating your name,

Where's your wealth? where's your fame?

Hundred thousand dollars and that’s on champagne

Lucky seven probably poppa

Leave your running to your mamma,

The .45 for you niggas with nine lives

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

Aimin' at his partner who know he up next

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

Shove your head up your butt til ya see your own guts

Oh how she love the gangstas, they love them green ones

Your lyres are cheat so hold your pen open your book-let

If i ain't get em yet, believe their name is on the short list

Your on fire.. your on fire

The game's a bitch, ooh we got her