This is a song about "The book of fourth grade nothing"

Sheets of nothing perhaps for the remainder,

I got something you've been waiting for

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

I mesomorph, into a dwarf, after engulfing the fourth quartz.

Yo, bubble gum that reese's pieces

Nothing to fill the void of emptiness

Of the book of your life

You make a nigga sing songs nice

Every possible plausible excuse in the book.

Frequently hated, either that or misunderstood

Got smite, 'here lies, on the fourth of july', they recite as you cried tears,

Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense

And a fist full of money give it to a fifth grade

Do it with no effort, now lets effin' celebrate