All around the world they say but really it started in LA
blue rags, baggy pants them
fresh white pro clubs and LA caps
off to the fast lane at the age of thirteen surrounded by palm trees
the smell of weed and smoke from the cars that are post-ed by the utility poles
that marks the spot
like a pirates flag on a ship
this be like the Goonies but the mentality of the show Sons of Anarchy, ain't that some shit
helicopters hovering above us
vecina looking through the ventana the cute lady throwing out the basura the whistle of pericos all around her these vultures will manipulate ya
Pollo holding his taaka like a new born baby Memo making jokes
Nate’s mumbling sounds crazy
Token on the corner, hittin' them toke sirens louder than our speakers
these foos want no love, they would rather fucking leave her ink in our veins but this all just a phase
the walls speaks for us
so don’t fuck around cause we don't play tied up Vans thrown over the power line chillin’ until it gets night time
Tonantzin is who we pray
Cocijo walking beside us in our lane make no mistake, it's a cultural thang and that's how you know
you're at The Block.
Copyright 2021. Omar Vargas. All rights reserved.