This is a song about "Who would have guessed that"

I got a lot to say, i don't hold my tongue

Who knew that these steps would just lead me closer to satan,

By the minute i was getting paid like a hot line

That the people who can't earn a dime can't have a rhyme,

Shadee doesn’t matter, heart makes the lover

Who would find it exciting you suffer

The type of shit that you don't have to asked who produced it

Rape her and record it, then edit it with more shit

And if we had missed that fucking bus, it would not have been worth the buzz

Lord, forgive me, as a kid, i used to look at niggas jealous

Y’all little ass niggas can’t fuck with that

If we would i'd have suspected

I shall not fear no man but godthough i walk through the valley of death

Who coulda guessed that i'd become this stressed. i'm a fucking mess.

The type of shit that you don't have to asked who produced it

Give it to these broads,imake em soar back and all that