This is a song about "Crips death pain im from the bricks no foni on clat"

Hes got on some crips kicks

Lil prps like 3 digits

No remorse from this source as the pain is all yours

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

Take your pride n leave son, plz stop me from the pain

Fresh out the plane i couldn't even complain

I'm that extreme, so haters complain

If you from the streets i feel your pain

'cause i'm about to give the death penalty of pain

Man in the mirror, i can’t get my shot again

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

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

Ain't come from no happy home, my pain y'all cannot decode