released June 10, 2011
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It's '07, got the beats, now I start to knock
Pullin my minivan into the visitors parkin lot,
Ain't got a spot while these wheels hard to rock
And that joint in my box makin these cats think I spark a lot.
Hardly, I aint got grass to burn
Or even earnin cash, cuz I'm in class to learn.
Season's turnin fast. The birds last to speed on,
December ain't set in, so I ain't even got my jeans on
Like, we could kick it on the street all night,
Splittin sixpacks'll have us act and feel alright
Bringin chicks back at dawn, and yea, it takes all types,
They spot us right on all walks of life, ya feel me?
Impressed to see I handle ass respectably. Suggestively
I'm flirtin with the girl sittin next to me in Spanish class.
Constant textin me and stressin burn the candlewax
Especially to teach em kids a lesson over random tracks.

(Chorus)
Even in the summer herb keeps on burning
while days echo planets, and the Earth keeps on turnin.
I gotta handful of wasted minutes, it's like
school just finished. Why I gotta keep on learning?
Wear my tattoos on scraps of paper,
backs of composite notebooks I stashed for later.
Tracks, I made em. Throat sore from ash and vapors,
harass breaks on your harddrive and crash the data.

The autumn days start to fade, turnin trees naked,
Wishin that girl would do the same. She seems anxious,
So beats breakin akward silences that's G-rated.
And everyday I write a verse just to feel sacred.
Inibriated nights, bright lights and playin MarioKart
With eyes glazed over until the party start.
Are these the tunes mad curruptin the body?
Yo, are we the dudes fuckin up? Sad, but probly.
Books got me stalkin, scandalous tops I'm talkin to
Handlin thoughts and manifest blocks I'm walkin through.
Every afternoon I bundle up, head out to Oakland
avenue, dissecting every measure that I'm rappin to.
On Point's checkin Okayplayer for some decent shows,
step inside, tryina keep rhymes hot, but I'm freezin cold.
We makin speakers blow; I guess this shit is dope,
look back now, those days vanished like a wisp of smoke.

(Chorus)

Days skip forward like tracks on an album,
but I'm stuck at home, zonin, countin days off the calendar.
I cruise West Club, beefin with some future frat boys
Kenny's rockin beats and droppin random factoids
like, "you know BIG wasn't that heavy a guy,
Shit, that dude shed some pounds after Ready to Die"
Chill, Ken. No rush; I got plenty of rhymes
and he could keep this shit up till I'm seventy five,
So push the trebellin high, cuz I know you like that heavy bass clap
shit that give you lift as if youre in a spacecraft.
It's still chilly; got our noses running
until we wake up to birds and see those roses buddin.
On weekends, I'm bold as lovin; I got the headphones
on, and all youre hearin is some golden hummin
Now we lost, waitin for spring to die;
I'm tryin to inspire birds with broken wings to fly

(Chorus)