This is a song about "3d printers"

Im like joe montana im bout to throw

Got ten on the floor, stop playing with flow

Perfection doesn't exist if it doesn't consume her and the truth hurts

In the country , in the villages , in the earth and universe

We're young and we don't give a fuck

Broken before, felt like i was stuck

Flew past fast, threw the atmosphere last,

Hip-hop's unbalances got out of hand

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

Throw em in my trunk and head out straight for the docks

Digital ten, shit get critical friend

When our final hours die down, to fend

But more than not, and with prolly a whole lot less than the start

And chip shards off your skull to lay you face down like a flipped card

Ill slap you off the bar stool throw you out of a carpool

Bust that pussy open, turn that sofa to a fuckin pool