16 & he thinking of murder tactics, his neighborhood is tragic & the murder pics are graphic

If niggas are problematic, they'll solve em with automatics, similar to antennas, they, take care of the static; leaving niggas bodies reeking, Dead bodies not Aromatic

& The violence is Catastrophic, peace is quixotic, cuz these crackers out cher despotic

Niggas be outta pocket so stay with something to clack, niggas move like shiesty bitches who purposely spread the pack, no problem with taking advantage of niggas who ain't strapped

The youngin is on a mission, trigger finger is itching, he scratching & wanting friction, equipped with artillery, bussing the ammunition

Life is full of choices; you got to live with decisions, he follow the wrong niggas of his own volition

Aspirations for licks; street accomplishments, them field goals ain't good remind me of missed kicks

He wanna be with the shits, thuggin out with his clique

The youngin just wanna hang; they rob a nigga for change, remind me of oxi clean cuz they spray when they hit them stains

It's simple & plain, lil homie wanna do the same to get that fame to his name, that fame ain't gone mean nothing when a bullet put in yo brain

Catching bodies a hobby, gun em down with the shotty, head shots or body

Stripped of his morality, turning niggas to casualties

Corrupted trapped seed, the youngin is packing heat; got iron for enemies, worse than anemia when he making them pussies bleed

Chronic, he off the trees but he graduated from weed; addicted to sipping lean

Not knowing it's really heroin, nodding & getting his sleep on

No telling what he drinking when you see him sipping from cup, just know that it may be lean/Maybelline just like some make up. & the streets is full of sinners& trouble keep on calling, no saints in these cold streets with a breeze/Brees like New Orleans

Lil homie is out cher balling, the money it keep on calling Sell & use his own product but money still in his pocket

He clocking & making dollars, the hustle I cannot knock it

Do it to fit in, He gossip on how he profit, ears & eyes are open; the feds are listening & watching

& his homies is plotting, smiling in his face but that shit is sardonic

His crew see him in jewels, nothing but jealous dudes are some of the worst sinners, throw salt on em cuz he icy like concrete in the winter

Set him up to kill him, yea they opened fire but the shots missed him

Lucky to be alive, running these cold streets, these crackers want us dead & he could of been deceased

Taught to stand tall, them niggas you trying to be like wasn't raised at all

You better get out your ego, it's time to be a boss & elevate the ones that's lost in the sauce