Outro (Aint No Heaven in the Pen)
[Calliope Doefus]
New Orleans, stand the fuck up. It's your favourite big dog's favourite big dog. That Calliope born and raised, off that 37 hundred block of failure between [?] and [?] across from the infamous road of [?] AKA "Don't get caught round here.". Shouts out to that n***a skully man, paving the way, showing us uptown n***as how to eat big. And Boo-Yay for just being that real n***a he was, showing real n***as how to survive amongst real n***as. But what n***as gotta' understand about this Calliope shit, is run deeper than just yelling it for lyrics. A lot of soldiers lost out being on the front line fighting for this shit. Ain't nothing wrong with a n***a repping his hood, but a n***a gotta' know his hood, but this Calliope shit go back like fifty years. This shit stretch from hood to hood. On that note, shouts out to n***as in other hoods, across the city and across the world. [?] What up homie? Your day is nearer than you think n***a. You know I fuck with you the long way. You the only n***a that came back to show the hood how to grind better. Ain't no n***as doing that. I know when you boss n***a you gon' expose the world to this New Orleans shit. Especially these young n***as, so you can stop them from reaching their [?]. Home of the motherfucking head busters, where the street hides from the cops, the point of no return, where it's being a man or catching a man. Eighteen acres of pure hell. The new fucking gym quotes, where if you ain't got it, or got nobody, then n***a you done. A shank and a bone gon' be your motherfucking rolling home package. If that's our reality n***a, there ain't no fucking heaven in the pen
New Orleans, stand the fuck up. It's your favourite big dog's favourite big dog. That Calliope born and raised, off that 37 hundred block of failure between [?] and [?] across from the infamous road of [?] AKA "Don't get caught round here.". Shouts out to that n***a skully man, paving the way, showing us uptown n***as how to eat big. And Boo-Yay for just being that real n***a he was, showing real n***as how to survive amongst real n***as. But what n***as gotta' understand about this Calliope shit, is run deeper than just yelling it for lyrics. A lot of soldiers lost out being on the front line fighting for this shit. Ain't nothing wrong with a n***a repping his hood, but a n***a gotta' know his hood, but this Calliope shit go back like fifty years. This shit stretch from hood to hood. On that note, shouts out to n***as in other hoods, across the city and across the world. [?] What up homie? Your day is nearer than you think n***a. You know I fuck with you the long way. You the only n***a that came back to show the hood how to grind better. Ain't no n***as doing that. I know when you boss n***a you gon' expose the world to this New Orleans shit. Especially these young n***as, so you can stop them from reaching their [?]. Home of the motherfucking head busters, where the street hides from the cops, the point of no return, where it's being a man or catching a man. Eighteen acres of pure hell. The new fucking gym quotes, where if you ain't got it, or got nobody, then n***a you done. A shank and a bone gon' be your motherfucking rolling home package. If that's our reality n***a, there ain't no fucking heaven in the pen