This is a song about "Simple machines"

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

I spit verses hard and mean statistics say mine are fighting machines,

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

22. splitting simple divisions,

Of how they keep you still and down, convert people to machines

Ambitious girl, you just wanna win, and you'd rather chase your dreams

It's all simple, be you.

Why we gotta argue

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

My wishes are simple, a redhead with dimples.

Is he crazy or just that simple?

Never seen you as lyrical

Don't even know the rules but yet y'all tryin' to play the game

Simple plans and simple pain, where's my train to fame