This is a song about "Old san juan"

Then those bitches who grew old.

All this paper i fold

The truth shall be told

And don't think what you're old

We forever be real, we'll never fold

These faces and places are growing old,

Now the old me is back

Top dropped down, black on black

Lifes he stole left young but feeling old

So i could find my rainbow, my pot of gold

Hand to hand in the cold

Since i was a day old,

When the rhyme itself starts getting old

But for long time i had gone cold

Still moving forward like a 2 year old

And copy what's hot until that goes cold