Styling like it's 1967 Well, I got this here hoodie back in 8th grade On the birthday tip when the planes hit Wore it out to paint shit, frayed ('fraid) this High-horse straddling statuses symbol ain't shit Thanks to mi abuela's hella sound style sense I stay all C3PO-L-O intense Never gotta stand in line, never gotta drop a dime Nobody can copy mine, it's so priceless I'm styling with the tie on like I got an interview Styling, looking good from the hood to the boots Styling like it's 1967 I'm styling like it's 1967 Styling like my name was Ralph Lauren in '67 Couple decades later, born on 9/11 Wrapped in swaddling Lo things, no wings But I'm feeling heaven-sent That's redundant, considering the place I was placed I-o-w-a D-e-s... ...you know the rest Never hit a register, still so fresh I'm styling to the T, from the tee to the socks Take it with the tags, thanks, don't need no bag or box Styling like it's 1967 I'm styling like it's 1967 Styling like it's 1967 MICL coming to you live straight from the state of heaven Physically and mentally I be about that spirit 67bpm so everyone can hear it June-immune to cold, catch me styling in the sweater Styling something Lo, the perfect get-up to go get up Styling like it's 1967 Styling like it's 1967

Beat you in a game of dead horse flat in 60 seconds Ballin' like the Philly 76ers back in '67 I control the court, you come up short like Frodo's sword Seeking out the ring, I ghost ride the Polo horse I'm the good, the bad, and ugly all in one With the savage gun, I come to leave a mark, be on the run Turn the town upside down, cut the loot and hit the freeway I even racked the ITC Fenice™ P-O-L-O style, thrown out in cold weather But picked up in the zone dos jeep Don't expect the 'X' to be the ecstasy of finding treasure Probably nothing but an old skeleton's gold teeth So my pen strokes heat like deadly deserts Wandering like an old spaghetti western Passenger cars derailed by powder kegs Firebirds poppin' out of Fabergé eggs I rock a beat so you have to feel the flow I gotta eat so I had to steal the show As the smoke billows I lay low like a pillow MICLangelo, I sip Merlot, down in Amarillo A string of robberies reported in The Register Sherrif's got nada, see you on la strada Like a mirage of water in the distance Just want God to acknowledge my existence Guns to the sky, I handle my business That's why, this revolver, I draw it with the quickness

Damn, I get that power like hydrogen Clint Eastwood on the Polo horse riding in Rough like drafts from the winds of a cyclone Up like tornado alley roofs in the I-O- What's good? Really though, you mean well? No I don't, M-I-C-L like Sprewell No I won't choke, but I'm fly like coach First class like roll call, the worst at economy, but If style was money On game shows I'd play for charity Musically I stop at nothing to get you on board, air's What I'm getting like Mike Jordan, If you're snoring here's the buzzer Balling like tether, this is not for squares I am it, like I got tagged, there is no other Phat with the pH, acidic, melt a critic's heart Like butter in the pan, my volume is the grittiest Bats out, not afraid to fail to get it started So I seem off base to these weak ass idiots About to steal the shine, over heads, let them tell the story Hold up- wait (weight)- I'm pulling mine Into left field, covering fair amounts of territory Just warming up, yo, bullpen rhymes Iowan- the demonym Partying all freaking night Wardrobe Lo'd out Feeling like my drink is spiked Sick with the kicks, phat with the hats I swear that my snares are the rarest, in fact It's so juicy like fruit when I dish up the loops Cocky, feel like I could fill Timbaland's boots Or maybe Dr. Dre's, but here is the rumor, since my Premier year, I'm in your brain like a tumor Dressed razor sharp, bringing the ruckus like a Zoomer Jay-walk through Dillards and confuse a consumer How so fresh? I dont know Even though his cash is low I play with words like they were my teammates I earn everything with speech that cremates Wait 'til I get my cream straight You got a silver spoon, I got a clean plate Left it all on the floor before the box score's crossed out In the first round I got picked, you got knocked out I'm into actual vocab association You're slow, over 7.0, so basic So I'm 007 James Bond, I be so Sean Connery and fly like Wakabayashi More energy than an alkaline battery Often imitated, inundated with flattery You only live twice so I gotta spit nice Shaking and stirring and skating on thin ice Snapping off the vodka, bouncer yelling 'bounce quick son' Rushing out the door to the getaway Vespa I prefer the 1967 myself I got it all on my shelf Call it 'hold up' like a belt Its MICL

Drowning in the garbage of the toys, spotted their foolish plan Found the Death Star's weak point rocking a cool hand Like Grandmaster Flash with the scratch, you get torn apart And your parts thrown everywhere like glass in broken shards Got more tracks than a large locomotive yard Styling in the streets, yo I catwalk the Polo-vard You're embarrassed red-faced like Darth Maul Double-edged lightsaber, let's brawl When trains slow to a crawl I put up graff so tall You just ask for some ass on a bathroom stall You tried to be fly on a wingless plane Lifespan cut through like an origami crane Tried to duel god, the fuselage sustained Spontaneous combustion, my crew is untamed When you run into the pictures we paint you fall We scrawl the writing on the wall folks that's all Kinda like the roadrunner no other can freeze the frame Or speed it up and heat it up and make you feel the flames My music burns you freaking lames Like sun rays and acid rain Rhymes blow up like timed grenades You need a new jukebox after every time it's played You kick rocks I sweep kick trains I know u wanna kick a verse, but please refrain Brought you 1967 on some 2014 shit Flowed so seamless, shout out to the seamstress Who got that logo, yo yo peep this Hanging on my T like a Polo Jesus Whether I roll deep or solo creep this Reach a peak steep like tea, stake Preakness Sword dancer standing battleground like Damascus Leave you in the dust, you get crushed into ashes Whats up? Act tough, you an actress Those Oscar-winning ad-libs belong beneath a trash lid Seinfeld emcees ain't about shit They lyin', tell an empty mane 'stay back, kid' Tiger vs. Crane, it's a shame I'm Japan sick Peter Jackson the way I direct action I uppercut, you motherfucking do a back-flip And fly into the pit on some Mortal Kombat shit Stepped into in the place with the Polo matching Plus the bucket hat you cant fuck with that fashion Party crashin', lets get it kraken Chug a whole mug full of rum like a captain Might rock low key on some laid back shit Killers stay quiet in my state, not inactive Violent on the set, turn heads, spines cracking Multiple takes I make it shake like fracking You might get cut from the way that you acting Loud and unruly, I'm a silent assassin Any means necessary, force is reflected Fighting like Malcolm mixed with Megaman X, it's The perfect weapon nobody wants to mess with They attempt to press reset on their SNESes I don't play Atari yo Fireballs like Mario Light up with a starry glow And side-scroll your barrio If clothing is the topic yo Don't ask me about my articles Yo, you already know Just go 'Marco' Racking through the gramophone To rock over the Walker Bros. Sun ain't gonna shine no more so Catch up with this godly soul So slow you hardly grow Man you got a sorry flow And you got so far to go 67 bars of gold Ahead of foes, head to toe, drenched in Lo, hold Up, pumped like a Super Soaker on swole Battled lots of Lancelots in Camelot, forged quick Paths forward storming with Le Samurai sword grip And an appetite for satellite-type orbit

I feel the need to chop it up like missionaries So I steal knives and pocket dictionaries Thrive on short supplies and get by just barely Surviving in a jungle look for the bare needs Fast until at last I can go no further Stomach on grumble I mumble some curse words Pockets are not so fat this minute got no cash Watch for the cameras and other observers Yo, yo, yo what you write? Let's go get up tonight Got a great place, but we ain't got no paint Yo it's all good though, what colors you want? I just go march in and out, I ain't no saint Priceless fashion, see it, I snatch it Three Polo caps in one day, scored a hat trick She stole my heart after I stole a glance Unless I steal millions I don't stand a chance A notebook for flows and more Trojans for so and so Deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush like Home Alone Sampled your record and gave you no credit If all y'all still want this shit back, yo, forget it How much does Santa Claus pay all the elves? He's not real, our parents bought those gifts themselves With cash earned from minimum wage so inflated It's just as much theft though not taken from shelves Eminent domain beyond your control Death penalties, killing is stealing a soul Slave labor, stolen land, cultural identity Coerced taxation from 'friends' who pretend to be Money inflating is stealing your savings Money inflating is stealing your savings Inherently flawed banks too big to fail now Taxpayers funding a corporate bailout How can you own anything with a pulse? Child labor laws don't apply to adults The concept of stealing is straight up confusing shit Word changes meaning depending who's doing it

Everybody peace out If you comprehend the detriment you need to speak out State the obvious, there's a lot of this in need now Greedy politicians on a mission, watch them pig out Native peoples, settled populations getting kicked out Even non-complacent sovereign nations getting pinned down All sides lose, it's impossible to win now What's a 'good war'? Try and compel me Fuck that, I won't do what you tell me Who's it good for, the poor or the wealthy? If you buy the lie you are not mentally healthy Troops bled and died for the blue, red and white Yeah, right, more like green and cream's the reason that they fight If you support the troops, you've been sort of duped Rationalizing war and ignoring the truth You need to reconsider all this bull you talking You need a little research on the Gulf of Tonkin Looking up to athletes, you want to get drafted Look it up on LiveLeak, you want to get blasted? Everybody peace out If your thoughts stay stuck inside a box, it's time to peek out If you'd rather not fire shots, it's time to reach out Fall into rank if your mental's blank All in defense of a central bank They try to trick others like it's a prank Rush Limbaugh could not fit in a tank O' Reilly or Hannity wouldn't pick up a gun Neither would Bush Sr., his son, or his son It's like whenever they get to talk, the whole world they're flipping off Some people like to call them chicken hawks 'Cause they would never walk into a live bullet zone What's the alternative? You still vote skull and bones Sabotaged campaigns, first it was Al Gore Conceded the contest even though his vote count was more "Peace candidate" Kerry 2004 A few years later, look who's down for a war Protest, photo-op, back to sleep, snore And even the DNC gets to reap the rewards Can't vote them out, corrupt politicians Two party system, they function as one Daughters and sons become recruits with guns And march into a war that's never done

Brand new Polo shirt, damn I'mma be the man when I go to work To pay it off 'cause now my dough is hurt Though it's worth every dollar 'Cause I'm styling on ya so berserk Right up until- 'Why do I feel unfulfilled?' Even if I get it free me from materialistic quick fixes Need to quit this I hope the umpire never calls me safe I wanna be out of line and off base I mean compared to all these fakes all up in my face Falling over every obstacle and crawling at an awfully slow pace I hope the empire knows my face Opposed to the state, apostate They dream of solving every problem with the same mistakes That got us in these nightmares in the first place What a waste So once the house lights go up and you take a bow And everybody claps at that trash it's time to take it out Answer- 'be true' What is 'what will I do?' To style like it's 1967 Think deep like breaths, so fresh, so heavenly Just speaking in shallow metaphors, I of course to the Worship of material object conscientiously How do we justify means when there's no end in sight? If we live in end days then men begin nights Ian Fleming penning, I'm living it twice No bonds, just words free as birds mid-flight I'mma peace out, yo, it's been nice I'mma scurry and bounce, I'll turn out the lights Don't worry an ounce about if these heads bite 'Cause spitting my rhymes would crack their windpipes Seek more than just preaching to a chorus Get popped like a collar if your persona's a performance Be Cassius ducking the draft, Dick Gregory on a fast When police sirens flash put a foot on the gas But not even to run away, aim and hit Agent Smith Even back in '66 he had a role that payed Don't need to leave my state to see IA Or be a dead poet to seize my day You see, the way I see it, lose what's in your dresser drawer 'Cause sometimes less is more, okay?