3 A.M.

It was 11:25, San Diego summer night
I was loving life, music on my mind, and the drum was like
Something like that, wandering the streets, underneath the buzzing lights
Another tight song made that day
In the lab, tracks laid from a blazing page
Higher Minds on the rise to invade your stage
Feeling high as I stride with a faded sway
The age old phrase, hello darkness, my old friend
Came to mind, and the night time talked to me
With a voice sublime
When I saw a group of heads bobbing, gathered in rhyme
A cypher, I guess, but what they spit was inaudible
Probably cause to not talk shit was an obstacle
But instinctively, Stevie-b was always gifted
Like when the doctor hits my knee, I kick it
And spit descriptive depicting the midnight cantos
The soft moonlight kissed the shallows of the shadows
I tagged some graffiti, and ducked from the SDPD
Looking shady in a hoodie and smoking a bidi
Completely vibing at like 12:35
When I ran into this woman with weary eyes
She was beautiful, but if a man was a mile
She had traveled very far, so I gave her a smile
She returned the smile of mine
I walked on and commenced to light the dime
The ash danced in the air like fireflies
My oh my, I looked down at my watch, it was 2:59
A.M. like an amen to the day's end
When I sensed a figure in the shadow waiting
I brushed shoulders, then I kept stepping
Without seeing his face, I handed the mic to MileSeven

Stepping through the cloud of smoke rings, I'm hoping
Seven gets around the dope fiends, with no strings
I hear the pitter and patter of little feet
And my eye sees my timepiece striking 3
And it might mean lightning strikes my mind twice
In the same place, trying to find divine light
The street lamps must need amps, 'cause we can't
See the peeps dance, I freelance the mic right
Back to the story at hand, a simple man
On a stroll avoiding his fans, spitting jams
Under his breath, upset 'cause they hunt him to death
A hundred percent respect, but it fucked with his head
So he left the show to wander in dark alleys
Weaving in between the cars who parked badly
Fleeing from the scene that seemed to mark Cali
As the place of beautiful swimming women who spark phatties
The clock struck 4, there's not much more
Of night time, I find some locked front doors
People in the beds had enough of that fool miles
I lean up on the fence and I puff on a Kool Mild
It's futile, to resist the kid spitting in the mist
I insist you sit, so you can listen to the loose styles
And if it should fit into little wigs,
Then the thickness is equivalent to skinny points
Pinner joints that struggle to grow fat
The hands on my watch were touching with no claps
'Cause it's 5:25, and slicing the sky
Were the first rays of Thursday, the sunrise
I scooped up my fruits and cruised to Lindbergh
Busting to myself I thought only the wind heard
But the bum in the gutter said brother, that's songs dope
We kicked back, relaxed, just as the dawn broke