This is a song about "Poor weave"

An explosion on the mic as i weave a woven web of beauty, so seldom does it happen,

Call that bitch rondoi'm fresher than the prom hoteach her, we don't fly coachshe fuckin' but she act dumb

Odd future young enough to get your priest mouth drool

Best thing is, you were emotionally poor,

Other dudes be huggin and nourishin her

It's poor whites and poor blacks, still they hate each other,

You're buying though cuz i'm really kinda fucking poor

By those that were slow as molasses, take this shit to school

Any future we can weave, and if we leave

My bitches brighter always saying lights please

Poor little baby sister, she don't understand

Unify them, mob through, take over and

Bust that pussy open, turn that sofa to a fuckin pool

It's an issue affected both the rich and the poor,