Call Me Capone

Good morning afternoon and evening to all the funky hunky dory Hip-Hop rejects of the world. I'm your host, Garret Gingerphone, and today is July 24th, 1942, For starters we have the weather, charting in with a quote from one of our sponsors, Quote: "Fucking cold as shit." until Slade brought the heat. And now on to Sports with our usual players doing jack shit with zero talent. Thank You

Started with a homie now I got a gang gang
Bitches kinda bloody, oh we finna gang bang
Now the seven-cross-eleven off the clock it ain't great
So I'm driving down the block with a fuckin AK, Oh yay! Ayy!
Party at my place, [?]
Oh yea, yea, bitches you thought, maybe go listen to rappers who [?]
Maybe, I maybe, I just ain't the one, hate me I'm just havin' fun
Oh yea I'm just havin' fun, reloaded and hatin' on my songs
They cock it, I Glock it, I tell you to run
Godfather to 17, needed some more, seated, I'm greeted
They call me Capone, but I own and it's feeding the people I owe
Hundreds I'm hoping they beggin "Encore!"
Fuckin' with the mafia, thugging for you life
Ya'll a bunch of bitches calling 1-99 gettin richer by the minute
And I can't deny that the image in my head up inside my mind ain't right
Yea, it all looks the same, You think you playin' like it's all a game
But you got my habits, you lazy and fake, you sleepin and dreamin
While here comes the Slade, takin yo spot while I'm runnin' the race
Don't complain about life you got nothin' to say
Spinnin and rhyming, you ain't hold a place to my vision, my path
No my soul can't be late, yea, yea, I cannot be late
Yea, yea, so get outta my way