Untitled Song

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Yeah, yeah
Ayo, society, it's time.
It's time, society (aight, society, begin).
Straight out the smooth dungeons of rap.
The guns drops deep as does my handbag.
I never taste, 'cause to taste is the family of drag.
Beyond the walls of hands, life is defined.
I think of strugle when I'm in an Indianapolis state of mind.
Hope the drag got some flag.
My bag don't like no dirty tag.
Run up to the lag and get the rag.
In an Indianapolis state of mind.
What more could you ask for? The beautiful guns?
You complain about freedom.
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the ones.
I'm rappin' to the key,
And I'm gonna move your me.
Stunning, full, single, like a slaves
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a waves.
I can't take the freedom, can't take the ash.
I woulda tried to love I guess I got no cache.
I'm rappin' to the me,
And I'm gonna move your key.
Yea, yaz, in an Indianapolis state of mind.
When I was young my family had a nones.
I waz kicked out without no runs.
I never thought I'd see that puns.
Ain't a soul alive that could take my family's ones.
A poor trap is quite the cap.
Thinking of strugle. Yaz, thinking of strugle (strugle).

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Member since April 18 2021

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