30 Sumn

I'm thirty sumn with gray hairs
Battle scars from wear and tears
Miles on this body from travelin' I've been everywhere
The world I seen, money can't compare
Only thing stoppin me is the cops but they ain't playin fair
Had to do a couple years here and there
So before we drink our beers raise em in the air and toast cheers
The road is harder so we changed gears
But we still the same as we persevered
3 musketeers
Motherfuckers I fuck with for years
Legacy pioneers
Feeling this sincere since we started our careers
Engineers of the yesteryears
Peers at the beach chairs
Opposite sides of the atmosphere
But every once a year we reappear
The shit is real I swear
I see my brother it's like I'm lookin in the mirror (right there)
The game is weird tight jeans is everywhere
It's not for me, man it's too much flair (I swear)

I'm thirty sumn and they want me to falter
I'm sturdy sumn like the rock a gibraltar
Drivin a hoopty had my pockets on swole
Now bodega breakfast country crock up on a buttered roll
Buggin, stubborn as an elderly Russian
Cuz we ain't growin any younger like Benjamin button check it
You take bets? Don't gamble on them haters
Like cage free eggs scrambling was in my nature
Even if she individually eat peas and scoop the niblets
I'll shoot the gift, let her scoop the prick, tell her watch the nibblin'
Peep the speech thru the speaker, sit back
Match light the reefer, small batch, ice in the freezer
Yo ya whole style generic, pal it's pathetic
I'm too ill, born this way, all the whole its genetic
Like the dna strain mixed with the pleasure and pain in the ink
When I send it to paper, plus the medicine vapor

Gettin old is the shit yea
Gettin old is the shit uh
But uh it's... not cool when ya...
When ya old and got the shits, yeah...
Old man spit old man shit
Gettin old is a blessin on some grown man shit
You see stress I see blessin
Have no idea how happy I was to see thirty
Now I try I remain healthy, tryna live wealthy
Barshaun, Cipolletti
Smoke to God, we get to live to see our first sons first son
Now, ya hittin thirty and shit
Ya pockets need to get a little more thick
I need dat money...
Brudduah I need dat money
Backtrack, youngin dumb off liq
Backtrack, Bar caught me off sick
Sisco that is
Shit had me fuckin flipping o like a disco
Bar had to take me home
Now he was real one for that
Fast forward, me... cip
He always kept it 100 with me even tho he used to piss...
Motherfucker used to piss me off mad shit uh
He broke me down with this terminology called bustin ya balls
Those my two road dogs we go to the end
You know, we call em friends
Ayo Bar real shit
Got my first gray hair in shit
Like a year ago now I got 3 mo'
You know I blamed it on my girl
Real shit... on some old man shit