This is a song about "Local"

Average techniques that leave you in disbelief stomp an gutted in your local streets

Shit ain't always wat it seemsi put that on everything no sleep having light dreams

I hold the title of local idol, i'll run this shit like a motorcycle,

Keep it real as penitentiary steelthis ain't no freestyle battle

I must be goin' out my mindlike i'm up against the worldthis guerilla team of mine

Workin' in the local blocks, sellin' goods n' sweets, for money for studio time//

International heard applaud to local suburban tour,

Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature

At the local arcade, puttin my dick in the ace of spades

Worldwide, but i got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades

Your grind's feeble, i'm regal, really, i'm willy smith

Taking refuge in a local home where force is assertive

Kill him where he stand and stand over him, shake his hand

Even though ghettoes and hoods are part of the local past,