What a nig really know about me though, I sip on Arizona, and grubbing on fritos, watching two fight, and one of them bleed slow. I proudly rep up North's street coasts. I'm watching this violence a nigga's barbaric, fueled with my mother that I inherit. Don't surprised, look in my eyes you can tell it. You give me looks like it somebody bad you were smelling, don't get it twisted this ugly bandit's full of rebellion. I'm not traditional, I don't play by the strict rules. I don't nothing in my hand to face you, my mind, and my limbs are my weapons, and tools.