This is a song about "Seventh grade"

Your mouth, i don't need, your legs, you can keep

To abbreviate, a grade "a" on that worksheet

Still rapping like i'm in 2nd grade

She self made, i'm self made

Just like this kush grade-a, and matching rolling tray

Ambition is definitely on the way

It was on april seventh, close to eleven at night.

A lil' closer let me see you in the spot light

You're raging an got some grammar issues go back to first grade

Don't give nobody no coochie while i be locked up state

But i'm done teachin' niggas though it's school

My grade six teacher was queer and not cool,

You just servin yourself, go pull up to pump three

You mothers still in grade school i got a degree

I've been doing this shit so fine since i rhymed up in sixth grade,

So play this shit while you contemplate, contemplate, contemplate