I got a sixth sense for danger man, a second-hand nature for war The biggest rivals in my city is the law I’m from that Pico Union district homie, fuckk what you thought We got trees, windows, and raw, whatever you on I’m just a pawn in that federal plan to get us all on A nice little high, shoot each other for crumbs One by one, dying from wars that’s won by none Some might come and make a bastard out of my son So I’m strapped with a gun making sure the axis that come From my body are only medicine pass through my lungs I got that downtown psyche, Cortez with a Nike logo Locos like me treated pipes like wifeys Buying up and down the blocks nightly Don’t take my block lightly We’re screwed up like everybody in the world might be Born into Union the 17th out the womb In the 70’s repping Lost Angels through the musical melodies