Spit on the sidewalk...

Tight knit like pigeon shit, jump back, now spit. Crowded on the sidewalk, pass the blunt, hit. All these fucking hustlers and you don't know one. I'll do the introductions, clue you how it gets done. This here's Andre; he's a gangster. Hoodie-hooded eyes, the Boston strangler. Sen, he's from Detroit in that faraway place. Space, he's running molly, and that shit is ace. Gun?, yo, he's a pastor, a flat track master. Track, wherever he plays that shit's a disaster. D-Zaster, that's a kid that I used to know. Didn't have much face and never had much flow. Flow, that's the shit that you got to get after. Put all of them bullet holes up in the rafters. Truth, I never met him, but I hear he's a bastard. For what it's worth, I hope you got what you came here after.