This is a song about "Bloods crips clips"

100 miles and running, wale, catch dubs

Got thugs after me like the bloods,

‘cuz they choose colors of bloods and crips in gangs,

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

And burn you so bad bloods ask "you ok cripple"

This is the shit that is makin' me cynical

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

That's not my hustle if i did i probably, would've made empty them clips from the crips

The concept is so absurd

And their bloods trying make it work.

I pump lead to paper, not to new clips,

A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips

Fuck that noble shit, it's our country, debate with glock clips,

I'm murdering instrumentals cause i rap with the conscience

My team getting digits

Hit and miss these fake crips