This is a song about "Gangs"

They say hip-hop's dead, i believe it's just the fans

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

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

Oh he was shot by other gangs/

We den turnt it up now it's at the max

Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs

I roll with real gangs stole 'n steal grams make a bitch squeal

I'm just expectin' the spectator's respect here

U'll get shot by gangs of cops for attempting rhino poaching

When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing

Obviously oakland gangs ignore this carelessly

Froze my bank account and seized my guarantee

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

Theft of a man's chest it's like gangs test and exams

Couldn't be better. i'll admit to planning this, but these gangs are all on my shit...

Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that