This is a song about "Old schhol flavor"

Done be ashamed-it ain't no thang, i used to blow trees

That shit got no flavor claiming you the lyrical saviour please

Now let me give you a little taste of my flavor

Listen busters, scarier when i finger fuck her

I've murdered so many verses its getting old

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

Maybe i’m just looking for the wrong thinglove don’t come sooner or later

I love the hate but i aint got no time to savor the flavor

And don't think what you're old

Hand to hand in the cold

You was to young a 18 year old

But for long time i had gone cold

And if i everest, i won't die old/

After every show, a dream she hold

Is a space that now you hold

When the rhyme itself starts getting old