You don't mess with 12, my boys
No blunts, lil' bro wan' roll up joints
Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks
Ever since my grams got old she's been a bit nuts
I know i'm not the only bastard in america
No more cutting grams, and wrapping grands up in rubberbands, i'm a
I guess i'm leftwich cause i still get to win
12 people per jury, ain't no mistakin'
I bring the tension in bricks, your raised it up a couple grams,
So nigga listen you can probably learn a lesson perhaps
Couldn’t adapt to naps, i wear caps
You wont catch me shifting grams
12 bars later i'm thinkin we almost threw.
Real motherfuckin g's, this one is for you
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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