Beware of my crime family who got enough shots to share for all those who wanna profile and pose. Knock you in ya face stab ya brain with ya nose bone. You all alone in these streets cousin. Every man for himself in this land we be gunning. And keep them shook crews running. Like they supposed to. They come around but they never come close to. I can see it inside your face you're in the wrong place. Cowards like you get they whole body laced up with bullet holes and such. Speak the wrong words and you will get touched. You can put your whole army against my team and I guarantee it will be your last time breathing. Your simple words just don't move me. Your minor, we major. You're all up in the game and don't deserve to be called a playa. Don't make me have to call your name out. Your crew is featherweight. My gun shots will make you levitate. I'm only 19 but my mind is older. When things get for real my warm heart turns cold. Another Nigga deceased another story gets told. It ain't nuttin really, yo dun spark the philly. So I can my mind off these yellow back niggas. Why they still alive? I don't know go figure. Meanwhile back in queens the realness, the foundation. If I die, I couldn't choose a better location. When the slugs penetrate you feel a burning sensation. Getting closer to God in a tight situation. Take these words home and think it through. Or the next rhyme I write might be about you