[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