This is a song about "Local"

I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last

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

I'll be the underline i'm-trynna get beside you like the number 9, dime

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

Taking refuge in a local home where force is assertive

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

My whole is about to reshape, feel like im playin games at the local arcade.

But his deferred, and blurred and changed in shapeit's fate, it wasn't my choice to make

International heard applaud to local suburban tour,

Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature

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

Mercy is for the weak when i speak i screamafraid to sleep; i'm havin crazy dreams

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

Runnin' to local rap studios, to watch mcs rappin on mic, becomin legends//

And i'm the same, on e'erything i love, or everything i love