At the grip of old age
These streets biting at our necks
Our crew run
Corners & Lots over
Filled tanks in the back
Jars and straps In
Cadillacs And Traps
Don't step to our crew
Blasting lines upon lines
With these twisted enzymes
We chart-toppers
Like C-Murder & Master P
No limits to life
Michael, Roy, & I
Torn back from the future
So we going to be
Back at it again
Spitting strings of rhymes
echoing sounds -
Bouncing off your ear canals
in your mind’s eye...