This is a song about "Shoes hoes school freshman guns block death"

And i snap like bob backlund in the booth

My brothers need some clothes and shoes

So stay fuck about my block.

I spit it like a loaded nine, pop

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

A legend have to bow, africa

Shoes, louis, prada, groupie blah blah

Kill the jungle let the cats loose

Like the bottom of your dated shoes

He say, she say, oh my god

I'm the freshman now, got it on lock

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

Without the sound of guns

See me i'm into hoes that's into hoes

Took me a while just to write those