This is a song about "The essence of time and space"

Loud p.o.t. above y’all, patron at 4 am, fuck the last call

Of rhyme and the essence of time you have to cherish before

I carry on the projects and the streets essence,

Bout some, but never put out the stout guns

So the mind they mine don't coincide with mine

The essence of my mind, the essence of a crime

Till the sentence is a essence,

Half my peers, they're stretched for years

But i'm not in the first place

We're running out of space,

You're a waste of time, a waste of space,

Put expressions in their music and create the face