This is a song about "We are gangsters"

Back in my zone

That we are not a lone

And i ride for any nigga who believe in the shit

Little white gangsters, i'd call that phase ironic,

As: and while you’re in my mother

We are exactly like one another,

We goin' hard, we're goin' far, that's who we are

Hope my city is not too far

Are we living or dead bro

Preaching to the choir though

Everywhere we go, people know who we are

And this still the hardest shit you've heard from la this far

Lets talk about the cars y'all got

We brain freezers,but are rhymes are hot.

And these shape-shifting hoes

No, no, we are not those