This is a song about "The fuckboy"

They gotta like a nigga, call me obama

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Because you gotta finish a paper

I'm the operator, the administrator.

Fuck the haterz, fuck the doubters

Half my peers, they're stretched for years

What up girl, tell me how you been

To the voice of the oblivion,

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

Hell yeahwould you kill for me nigga?on my grandmother, nigga

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,

So superb but how am i eating your bars if this rap is getting you served

I put these poems all in these songs

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

And when i'm done with her, ain't no other male to compare

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air