This is a song about "La clippers"

I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years

Got acres of papers, like i played for the la lakers.

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

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

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

Like my flow ain't cold like a new york winter

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route

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

Girl you're my reflection, all i see is you

Got no equal, bulletproof like fucking la roux

They claim it as their own, africa

Distribution, new york, to chicago, l.a.

A couple of haters looking, i’m knowing them niggas hot

Je suis la garçon qui cracher flamme, french, i just cannot