This is a song about "330"

Feels like i went on a pregame sports killin spree/

I know a bunch of envious niggas don't love my city

Man i was born in the 5-0-2, where cops don't come thru/

Now, shorty this is what i'mma need from you

Shit, caught up in your perfect world, you never heard me cry

I'll be dealin the blow that gave you the first high/

We new passtime, and we feelin better than, better than the veterans/

That likes walking with his hips bragging about his marijuana hits.

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

I spit that 1980 pryor, that l.a. '92 violence/

New passtime invadin ya cranium like we came up ya sinus/

And i ain't worried bout a damn thang, with unconditional love

Go ahead, talk mo shit bout how you don't feel me/

Tired of making money, i'm on to making history

My shit hair-burning, you not even a lil’ tan

Put in work make stacks of hunneds, gotta roll dis cash man/