8 years old, already making moves, rocks in my sock, on the block blowing fumes, couldn't read or write, but my numbers in tune, no cartoons, just bricks, blunts and fruity looms, fire escapes, hollow rounds and bloody shoes, leave the scene like a ghost, so confused, I can't lose, i was raised by them baboons, ill crack your melon like a cashew, no remorse ima bad dude, come on with ima blast you, sawed off, you ain't with, ill outlast you,