Jesus christ, the king of these latter-day saints here
Touching on that ass, tryna get a feel
My chances were shallow somehow i'm so deep
It's like you grew up on drug street, from jump street
The furnace be permanently burning g's to the 3rd degree
And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree
If sam rosen never rolled and malcom never spoke
3rd eye seeing light it's a beacon of hope
Gold saints i despise so that don't even matter
Choking on them white boys make a black panther
Including fox hill and 27th street
Sometimes i think, what i need
Yeah you know i got that work, women second, family first
Like true lovers caught lost in the summer, 3rd degree sunburned
Walkin through the streets wearin jewels, breakin niggas makin moves
Children in 3rd world countries dying from a lack of medical tools//
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