This is a song about "Thirty orbits"

Ridin’ round, and this bitch dirty

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

I gave ya girl a t-shirt since she gave the whole crew neck

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

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,

And that i spent the night with her

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

Eject ur rhymes in orbits,

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

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

- or i'mma fuckin' put this gun in your fuckin' head