This is a song about "1960s"

I've murdered so many verses its getting old

Nudies and some j six, where i’m from it’s cold

Got racks you don’t understand

I got the mic up in my hand,

Mirror mirror on the wall

Stand tall and stall till small kids fall

Shes only 17 years old

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

Never had a wallet, money falling out my pocket

Rollin’ and chokin’ and movin’ slow motion, i’m floatin' on good

Babble at the things that your mind can channel

Kill me with a chainsaw, and let my balls dangle

Somebody ring the church bells for da man wit no ring on

My nigga o that's like my bro without the same damn mom

My team supreme the name will always ring,

Put a little twist in her hips cause i'm watching