This is a song about "Make the block hot"

And i'm somali so i guess i'm just tryna eat bread

Ain't no more of writer's block, fightin' hot, hip-hop is dead

Who running your block and what chick be hot

To y'all minds i'm like a uk clock

Then let that arm & hammer, hammer it right to a lot

Maybe this might actually make the night hot

On the block with binoculars

So you finally got the nerve

"listen to the track bitch!" echoes

My block stay hot my wrist stuck on froze

Pass it round, counter-clock, let her show her titties, stop

Bout as hot as pot lines being sold on your block

Aint nobody getting shot up on the block

Bartender, no ice, bring another shot

And the only block he's reppin' is a h-block cell

Young and dumb as hell, businesses i'm running well