I am the one, don't weigh a ton
 Don't need a gun to get respect up on the street. 
Under the sun, the bastard son
Will pop the Glock to feed himself and family By any means, your enemies, my enemies
 We wet them up like a canteen The yellow tape surrounds the fate 
Don't have a face, so now you late, open the gates (♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥)