This is a song about "Mandem on the stre"

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Layin on his chest in the sand time forgotten on the dash.

This where the haters is, this why they hate us here

Grams on the deal i got hands on the wheel,

Witnessed my disease, spit lonely on the streets, wolf on the beat,

How come he's not in counseling? fucka's loud while he's sound asleep

As: can’t wait to pork your mom

Light the way, lead us on

Mirror mirror on the wall on the wall,

I'm so-cal, you so-called rappers need to go call

Crip on the run, nipsey hustle on the gun

You just working with the scraps you was given

' alright, already, the show goes on

Come on kids, fuck that class and hit that bong

Bring on the new replacement, selling dope on the pavement

As well as supper; then i'll rummage through her ruptured cunt