Why we gotta argue
See you, touch you, hear you
Cause i’ve been counting all this dirty paper for a minute
Young, naive, who slits his wrists, missiles hit to cock and shoot,
They must come with a bible, swine flu, and a pistol
Turn your life completely around and turn you suicidal,
Throw your body in a ditch
Throw d's on that bitch
Press throw and brother see my demons in three pieces
I never gave a fuck and that's what they love
And even though shit's trife at times, never resort to life of crime,
Too busy trying to dig a hole in your jeansnow it seems, it's check out time
Next last to integrity,
Dc, man over money
I get my paper, y'all just hate
She'll turn out fake, i was being played
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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