This is a song about "Types of triangles"

Out of mind out of sight

It sends her on a trip so right

He fathers her only kid that's why my homies let him live

Try to sleep at night while feeble types in undershirts will beat their wives

We're two different types of romance,

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

Messing with ouija boards triangles and the kay kay kay

Rain, rain go away, that's what all my haters say

I'd remember my favorite types of recipes

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

You're in the presence of a player, i'd rather be ya nigga

I've been through many different types of pains, while holding on to the

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm everything that they call nice

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred