This is a song about "La baguete"

Till we're dumb high, dumb high

That’s my la-la lullaby.

Slick rick, de la soul, and rakim spit sicker,

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

But it never rain in california unless the pistols out

Not generic from ny, la, the chi, what hood am i gon talk about?

But muerte es la vida; death is part of life see; only "god" can judge me

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see