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When ya hear shots fired, ya know where those came from. They came from the barrels of the AK's of the fuckin' most rugged gangstas ta hit the streets of Bathurst and Eglinton, and we be dippin' down Peveril Hill North to AVA road. Flop suckaz should back up fo' they get they ride shot up wit' the mac millie or the fo' five. We packin heat wherever we go, Gettin' in them clubs wit' ninas tucked under our jeans, and a machette strapped to our leg. Any faggots who think they was raw an' wanna come step to this crew of the hardest hoods, find themselves in a pool of blood wit' 6 holes in they brain and they fuckin' rib cage caved in. We don't give a fuck if you got kids, we'll run up in ya crib an take ya' baby mother and fuckin run trains on her while ya son and daughter watch. Dat's how we roll, in the Landcruisers, fuck vests and bulletproof windows, We don't care how shot at we get, we'll bust back and take out any fuckers even if they be totin' some fuckin kevlar armor, we got them armor piercin bullets for ya' that'll rip threw ya like you was a rag-fuckin'-doll. Throw ya' dubz up to tha hardest crew 'round, C-Block Souljaz, or feel the wrath or our spiked bats makin' contact wit yo goddamn jaw.

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