This is a song about "Hip hop and the boom bap of the 90 s"

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

The golden age of classic era old school hip hop,

Immaculate conception of the hip hop genius

But once the smoke clears, you right back where you was

Then dipping with the fucking pen to go sin again

Hopefully i can get in the hip-hop hall of fame

Your killing the hip-hop industry with your whack bars of misery,

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

Im piloting hip hop after a 5th of vodka in the cockpit

Today it's ill, and fuck the rest of hip-hop that says "stayin' real",

Phone home shawty you know you a brother out of here