If you got an itch to catch some havoc. There’s mayhem in the plastic. City of La La, I mean the land of holy Zsa Zsa The wood is hot and you can spot the flocks Of people like sheep, those with dredlocks To jocks with Reeboks, fleeing hard rocks A la cafe, Bambatta flashy fashion. Imagine crashing bashes with bitches That be bad and wishing for the fame And recognition. They’re on a mission for self, baby We’re like the twelve, my tribe is crazy deep. We got the beats that are hot. We’re like clinique. Foundation resonates when...
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