This is a song about "Rational numbers"

Dope sneakers and dope speakers for fly cats

A rational b j given by your raps

I remember tripping, walking through the set like my glock don’t think

Pay attention, focus, dividin rappers like numbers in a quotient

You never had a son, in the physical or literal

Proportions of the profit, runnin' numbers in a circle,

You fool think you're knack, bitch you rack raps ,you're fag,take you sack, things,

To destroy artist till you'll have to guess the numbers by triple digit estimates.

Our debt is crazy because our money is just printed numbers

Which gave me the opportunity of standing out straight on my feet above others

Swag-er. this is a mixtape about... nothing. not on drugs

I'm stuck inside a slump runnin' numbers like proportion boxes,

And my regime includes east coast

In numbers as her body decomposed.