This is a song about "Hood poetry"

I guess that it's supposed to be, express that in my poetry,

Now you stuck up in my mothafucking basement all bloody

Aye, hold your head homie, look

But now your under a hood

From hollywood to the hood

My nigga, no hook

He ain't touching me like martin sheen's penis

Second guessing me? i'm writin' poetry, quote this

Rearrange yo rocks you got a gang of friends, money

I love embarrassing other people with poetry

Only fear death when you staring down a loaded gun

With the beat as he spills like his poetry is spoken,

Even though our rhymes are really musical poetry

Everybody watching while you touching real money

They gettin chips, they flippin bricks

With my militia poetry tactics