This is a song about "Thirty orbits"

The hot-box vehicle like breathing out the window

A thirty shot to me is like a ten finger akimbo

I wanted a brother my mother i told her

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

I'm kobe in an orange jersey

Now it’s your turn, spitting till your thirty?

It's difficult to let it goi'm startin' to loose my hair cause i worry

To put that into context autism usually gets you less than thirty,

Chasing for the wind but you never win the track meet

Night falls in thirty minutes, angels fall at instant speed

Guess it's something like your girl, nigga it ain't came yet

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead