2-Hye, yeah yeah, 2-Hye yeah, I'm going back 2-Hye school.
It was seven fifty-five and the bell rang, Stepping into class with my professional gang. My backpack's so loud I let the smell sing, Walking through the hallways blowing up the building. We got it on lock all over the campus, You want something meet me up where the ramp is, So clean the dean could never stamp us, Especially when I made the last snitch wear pampers. It all started in my freshman year, My name became 2-Hye addressed and clear. Who knew years later I'd address the tier, Started growing out of khaki suits and dress in gear. A young hustler, high school senior, Got a car and started exploring Pasadena. I took the freeway to L.A. then the entire state, Planning not to retire late so fuck the laws I violate. (You heard?)
Everyone knew me as a businessman, With test scores higher than your business plan, Higher than I get when I twist this gram, I'll be fucking up the chess club with just one hand. Rob the key club and the student store goodies, And sell it all half price right out of our hoodies. Started a casino in a motherfucking art class, Told the teacher sit the fuck down this is our class. One day we glued her ass to the seat, I almost felt bad cuz she cried up a creek. The next week, she packed up and quit the job, Cuz we'd act up like we're backed up by the mob. I'ma juice this I owe you list, Til my non affiliated classmates useless. My rhyme's like high school pussy, mad tight, Tighter than your daughter was at Disneyland on grad night.
These days we're the days of the mix-tapes, Rapping in geometry instead of trying to fix shapes. This one shorty needed help with her mistakes, She asked for money so I told her she could lick grapes. I did my work in a Greezy way, So I could guarantee me an easy A, Had girls talking to nerds in a sleazy way, And if your ass forgot, that's the reason I say, hey...