me be treated like a punk? you know that's unheard of, you better watch how you're talkin, and where you're walkin, or you and your homies might be lined in chalk. i really hate to trip but i gotta loc, as they croak i see myself in the pistol smoke, fool, i'm the kinda g the little homies wanna be like on my knees in the night, sayin prayers in the streetlight.