This is a song about "Blue mist cafe shisha"

Y’all little ass niggas can’t fuck with that

...mist of rap...whatever, it don't matter, shit

The disease of the wordsmith hidden inside of the mist

Yo, i'm fucking goldilocks up in the forest

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree

Beneath the mist, chillin in the hidden valley

This shit ain't nothing new though

Dip, go! tip toe into the mist, slow..

Dip, go! tip toe into the mist, slow..

That's why they can't mess up my flow

Mama ain't raise no fool, true

Until your face turns blue

So i threw it in a rap so i'd remember that

Enter a mist, twist, barrel role and all that shit.

But it was written in cursive for this king to exist

For biting mine lines just to escape in the mist