This is a song about "1960s"

Man did i get that, i could write a book on the love in her eyes with no setbacks

I know they mad i’m on, but that's too bad cause err shit, i'm here to stay i brought my bags

And end it all, it's the next chapter in this book

For petty sake not even heavyweight, it's never good

Where i tend to let out random rhymes...

Niggas couldn’t tell if i was dead or alive

Yeah that tiny screen can get stuffed,

8 in the morning when that street clock bust

I perfect every line

Me love you long time

Od'd on that mitchell-ness you thought it was '03 again

Meet me at the battle field maybe we could solve em

I'm at morgan, howard, coppen, trying to find that higher knowledge

Electrical impulses bright in plain start to force the switch

This boa, what's your motivation

I get in where i fit in.