This is a song about "Rap hooks"

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

Let me put the hooks in write em and just call my journals

So far you nasty, ff-fuck you call that

To every verse of my rap

Spin loops when dropping hooks, hoops like i'm shaq,

Sold sega games, his cousin sold crack

Then shook together a couple bars and hooks, finished,

But it was written in cursive for this king to exist

Im bussin shots at these fukk niggas call it hooks

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

You got reason to brag

Imma spit this angry rap

Epic, they used to feed me detours

Focused on the hooks instead of my books