For all the killas and the 100 dollar hoes
Wayne told me that and that's just how it goes
I'm fucked up and this fucking feeling like 8 miles,
Young black male, crack sales got me three strikes
I'm trying to get you hot and wet you know jacuzzi that shit
And i just bounded past so many rappers, 100 that i counted
Now my eyes chinese, keep the loud lit
I keep it 100 , and you should know it
That's why i never claimed i was the best
Scored a 100 and didnt even take the test.
But it was a miracle, i ran for miles and met my crew in the kitchen
Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one
At the bottom and top, running and also stopped,
Dear lord come save me, the devil's working hard
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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