Rock out with that Glock like a guitar this just the solo. High class gangster it came up from under the polo. Shots hitting every threat moving feeling like Curry. Tips red hot like some Indian shit so they worry. Heard a million dollars was the value of the bread. Why anybody put so much money on my head. Now I’m giving special invitations to meet the devil. To think they can kill a gifted intelligent rebel. This was the way life once turned rogue. This ain’t for those soft dudes who read vogue.