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Is when you dial star 67 and your cell block numbers. Yall like Defensive tackles some fuckin Block runners. You gon feel the heat I aint talkin bout hot summers. But to me yall goldmines, cause when I see you italo all your Gold mines, I leave your eye Puffy with no Shine(Shyne). Catch you on a bike at the italo light you getting close lined, Right in front of Po nine murk em yell Show Time, You scared to death, and sweeter than a punch bowl. Heartbeat, sound like your chest doin a drum roll. Last nigga runnin his italo Gums chewed on my Gum-sole. If I got techs(?) I aint talkin how the blunt rolled, You know I’m gung ho it’s all for the love but it‘s like “Blimpy’s “ yall eat your hero then call for a sub. That’s why my joint kick, like eastbay mail, I will not lose, I’ll make the judge and D.A
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