This is a song about "Hood thug crips los angeles"

That's not my hustle if i did i probably, would've made empty them clips from the crips

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

To mcs that don't rhyme good

Call the crib, same number same hood

Got my spoon tucked, you know im a thug

Wasn't no love for a nigga in the smug

This information is vital, look

But now your under a hood

The capital punishment, the loud police sirens

Never was a thug just infatuated with guns

Ma want me to go find a wife

Still living the thug life

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

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks