Inner City Dialogue

A lotta niggas try to stick it in
Me 'fore they stick to bidness wit me
But a boss ain’t having that
From the bottom, not the Drizzy one, Dino sun
My boys got drums like BattleCat
I'm a westside hitter real spitter I
Don't need no damn cosign for my raps
The thriller in Manila real queen
Post up with some pretty bee’s in the trap
Drop stacks like Baby
Fuck you pay me
Excuse my French cuz I'm mixed with Jamaican
Imma be the best no ifs, ands, maybes
We ain't following routes that y'all taking, no faking, its amazing
Like Jason wit the Lyric
Grind bad brakes so I hope that they hear it
Pray that they fear it, but even if they didn't
It's a process of me healing and I know I'll make a million
This is inner city dialogue, bare fridge no lights is on
Cracked streets, foggy smog, tell you what I'm rhyming for
Not for money not for cash
Not for strippers shakin’ ass
We can make it I believe
Listen to the city breathe

Most viewpoints are the male punctuation
Most things belong to white population
Gringo world but I still couldn’t hate 'em
Too much love in the home I was raised in
Raised in, raised in
Too much crime in the city I’m raised in
Raised in, raised in
Murda murda murda in the city I'm raised in