You're as tight as a hunter's trap. Hidden well, what are you concealing. Poker face, carved in stone. Amongst friends, but all alone. Why do you hide.
Uh,. Yeah,. Somalia. . Yeah,. I spit it for my block,. It's an ode, I admit it.. Here the city code is lock and load. Any minute is rock and roll. And you rock and roll,.
199-muthafuckin' 4, South Central Cartel is back in the house. Prodeje, Havikk the Rhyme Son and the Mouthpiece. And we straight servin' your ass, heat.