Loka

See us slide outside mob wit three, four, five

Of the downest finest bitches, pretty brown girl fly

Through the streets of Maryvale, hell's passing you by

Showed 'em where I grew up

Where I stole, adolescent times

Start the beat then I rhyme 'bout a life I used to see

My faulty decisions, actions ain't reflected very well

But it's the present that's runnin' that counts

Smoke an ounce, turn around time to bounce

Time to push my fuckin' pen

Every where that I turn nothing makes sense

Tryna make hope for myself