Microphone yo... corazon yo...
No doubt, lyrics, yo A.L., check it
What you say son?
Raw creation, my nation is trapped, packed like animals
Hannibal canibals lurkin in streets which are flammable
A rastless, hustler's aimin, for the intangible meat
I'm too deep, checkin if beats are compatible
Brain lit off shots, body counts become plural
Hand me a mic, I paint a picture on your mural
Vision of streets, summer's blood, when you need peroxide
Never on the cop's side since my man's pops died
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