We makin records piecing together snippets of tape
We take forever at peace with the weather bitches and breaks
We hatin? Never. It's peaches and pleather. This handshake
Who wants to drive next? (This is on some hip hop shit)

I grabbed the mic first time when I was maybe 15
Around the same time I learned to keep the kitchen clean
We never switched teams, just kept it peace, awake.
All types of listeners complete each piece of the break.
I'm mad grateful. Ask me for what?
Don't pass me for last gatsby, I'm nasty as fuck
Or maybe just too polite to use such poor grammar
Confused your new yorkin with Grand Rapids stammer
(Ima battle ya)
I'm just LOLin trolls go back under your bridges
We got new generations of kids to live with
Go take your kids to the record shop
Go start up a milk delivery pop up
I don't give a fuck
Just see these rappers every time they visit
That's called support sport (s/o Filkoe)
"Get in where you fit in" to quote too short
"There's money in the ghetto" again IDK
Cause man I ain't from Oakland. I keep forgettin
Big up the heads that's holding down the winters in the mitten
Not me sun, they say "we sun people"
We call ourselves Suns and our state of mind: peaceful
{Time}
Ain't got nothing else to do, but pass
I'm more or less older than I feel I should be, right at this moment
Me and my crew used to pedal this honest music and suffered elite
Until the Internet chased me down
I got friends I wish I could see right now, but I can't remember their names
While hiding my phone from myself, in the process I lost my pen
(Writing this in notes now)
Got pen pals now, on skype and said "read my fax"
Everyone of us a documentarian, I can't help but support that
And not give a shit who owns this.
"You want your money, come and get it"-sole
While becoming part of the process, processing raps most prophetic.
These mix tapes used to be shrinkwrapped.
But that was just part of the "...process, like Ice-T's hair
Said mr coke to mr mayor"-boots
And you could tell where I come from
we gettin older we ain't gettin dumb sun
Or young sun.. And got nothin left to run from my name is sign one
This is truth. This is a youth movement
We don't talk about art. We talk survival and write you music