This is a song about "A falcon with a box on its head"

I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops

Runnin' numbers in a circle, proportion box,

Im a head hunter with targets on every head

I gave ya girl a t-shirt since she gave the whole crew neck

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

A falcon who'll get her taloned claw caught up in/

I'm young, black, gifted, live my life on the run

I'll throw you out the window so fly like a falcon

You threatened to use a box of condoms on my mother,

Cops rollin' past, rollin' papers in the passenger

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at the throne

You phonies 'bout to head home in a box 'cuz it's the dead zone,

Trying to move foward, though it never stops

Momma crying cuz her son in a crate box