This is a song about "Neural impulse"

Carefree i don’t need the stress

Miss hard working, shit spurt mess.

Creeping, with gut hanging out in park, you eat alone there when it's dark

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

So here i sit as i shake it

The dead society of a poet

Try to push back i pull back/

The third one is mixed, white and black

And i shall commence that i'm the truth, joe

Although you hater push me to a whole new low

Submerging from the depth, and i push and nudge

But when her friend visits i doesn't get it much

They all just shake their heads and scoff

That's me spitting this fucking garbage toss

That happen to act like a black president

Sticking to the trip and gearing for the feel of lust