This is a song about "Guns and pis"

And my guns are directors

The birds i knew flip birds

Pull out guns and let 'em spark

They don't hear the bark

With no guns and no shields

All that ass in your jeans

Just drop your guns and knock on heavens doors

Signing off brother ali, sincerely yours

Fake people who waste space and shot guns

Pocket with a cash full of bashful weapons

And the door is unlocked, i wake up gagged by russians with guns cocked,

But there's a devil in the ghetto tryin to tear it apart

Where the guns ain't an issue, and death is big

And we ain't hard to find is the tales that we kick

We hustle to survive

Im starting to see guns and knives