This is a song about "Steve jobs"

Like steve i need a clue man your really telling me?

Highest form of respect, if you say you're not ready

If everybody play their position, we can win this thing

And every day my mama drifts jobs like she's sleep-walking,

My bars is kickin' into steve urkel,been writing rhymes long as a journal

But that takes paper that we don't have so niggas put their souls up as collateral

The best journeyacres of land and swimming pools and all that

But i got these shitty jobs, and look at me, i’m educated,

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

I look like steve buscemi

Im cleaning up these haters like my jobs to hold a mop

Give me tall glass, coconut ciroc, please, no soda pop

You sell yourself for better jobs

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks