This is a song about "The broadcast"

Now we must stand tall

Where the ball meets the wall

I bring the heat like the

Wale, d.c. thats me, huh

From the bottom to the top

Let me see you walk

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Black fours red drop head doors

In the face of the outside.

And you're approaching me right

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Okay today i was the freshest in my area

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the