Yeah, it's ConCreatures
Boldy Blocks
227, yeah, uh-huh

Brave and courageous in Detroit, Michigan (Bold)
His grades is abrasions and eight-ball hemorrhages (Cold)
Straight shell cases, ARs, Remingtons (Uh-huh)
Spray fields and gages, tear apart ligaments
Separatin' them gang stars from gentlemen (Yup)
Redecoratin' paint jobs and interior (Uh-huh)
It's serious, put the piping on this leather seat
Left his mirror tints spider-webbed in his V (Spider)
Taco meat on your driver seat, split your lima bean
The four pound llama beamin' down him and gut him clean
When they visit him in trauma, full-body sling (Uh-huh)
His baby mama and his mama hollering, screaming
My baby never hurt nobody, why that fucking heathen (Bold)
Boldy shoot him? Now them bullets bothering his breathing (Cold)
Now every time that it rains, he think about that evening
For heartache and painkillers, blame ConCreatures

Bold, my trigger finger is itchy-scratchy
Right, my middle finger, it grip that maggie
Tight, my ring fingers embrace my gun
Yikes, and my pinky fingers anchor my thumbs
Strike, the thumb on my other hand click the hammer
Yup, my left index is ambidextrous
Left fuck-you finger, the reason I squoze
Put them gloves on and teach you the meaning of Bold

I ain't superstitious but somethin' is fishy (Uh-huh)
I keep havin' dreams them officials comin' to get me (Yeah)
At night I can't sleep, keep switchin' up where my chips be
'Cause they'll break the bank, take it all, leave you on empty (Stash)
Can't make a call, they tap all into your frequencies (They tap)
Invade your privacy, put the wire on your team (For real)
Can you survive the heat, indictment sheets, and affidavits? (Snitch)
Or make a statement? Ratting for a occupation
Cracking under the pressure, you less than a man
Banned from the street, your best friend in the Fed (Yeah)
Pen out of ink from all the shit you wrote and writ
In the pens out them clinks talking like you on a writ
Ain't that a bitch? You done snitched, got your partners a bid
Took and cop twenty years, still do about ten
None of his men said a word, stayed true to the end
Because he sang like a bird, they doing Jupiter years
Bold

Bold, my trigger finger is itchy-scratchy
Right, my middle finger, it grip that maggie
Tight, my ring fingers embrace my gun
Yikes, and my pinky fingers anchor my thumbs
Strike, the thumb on my other hand click the hammer
Yup, my left index is ambidextrous
Left fuck-you finger, the reason I squoze
Put them gloves on and teach you the meaning of Bold