This is a song about "1950s"

Your worthless man, just like fuckin canned food.

Keep your mouth locked, screwed and glued

Fill up the plug, lemme light my blunt

When it comes to beef it becomes a talent

I'm so-cal, you so-called rappers need to go call

I'm the reason behind every fall

Get yours; you know what this about

Imma bout to pull out

Or generate the next line,

3 times, show me your peace sign

They hating, patrolling and trying to catch me riding dirty

I plug my usb cable right in, hundred percent in a century

It's over, it's over, it's all over.

Good love then i can do that for her

I got that shit, that makes you high

Damn is your mattress dry