Blockwong

I am the one, don't weigh a ton
Don't need a gun to get respect up on the street (okay)
Under the sun, the bastard son
Will pop the Glock to feed himself and family (sheesh)
By any means, your enemies, my enemies
We wet them up like a canteen (damn)
The yellow tape surrounds the fate
Don't have a face, so now you late, open the gates (god damn)