This is a song about "Sore eye"

You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair

Giving nigers my stank eye stare

We still staying laying lines with sore throats

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips

Why you sore huh? you go and just diss a dozen kids

And i know that your supply

So i slipped my pickle in her eye

Free 2pac is all that's on a nigga's mind

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind

My expensive eye invention

You're uncool like my mother kin

Set in store through each sore formed by this semi-auto repeater

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

I throw em to the floor, fuck their pussies sore

Pine-green foams, they may never see the store