This is a song about "Psychotic teachers"

I'm like psychotic marine on laced lsd

Wish you was around now to see what i've become see

And all these teachers treat us like some fools

I go to war, old timbs, battered boots

One that doesn't end in psychotic rage,

With foreign names, valet the range

He said that he rather put the pump to his face

But i pull 'em up when i'm passing teachers just in case

To blast again on another nigga claiming his insane or psychotic

I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket

They always called me tripod in school, even the teachers be like

I was gonna start diggin' into these niggas chest, right

They start turning psychotic

Don't come around hurr on that floss shit