This is a song about "Glock block stock rock chopper terrorist paris red dead fed lead"

With a trail of dead mic's cause these wack cats get stopped like red lights.

Just remember us from time to time when you drop them lines

Ain't no more of writer's block, fightin' hot, hip-hop is dead

For that living large, but mama i ain't done yet

I spit up on the block like a glock and the rest are dead,

Not mine, i'm with wale, i'm just a tourist on the set

And for the time being lets me in love with the moment

As a red eye, high jedi, letting lead fly, i bet i bust

Octopussy special effect the wet bitches be banging

I drink a red bull to get a red wing, flow tight make the dead sing

My nomo could be found in stores but the jersey only nomo got

Open the door, they scream freeze, melt em--with the lead from the glock

Well that didn't go well, let us try to make it swell

But even then i'll rock the dead in hell