Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free
Ju 52 cent sun i boni
Still dreaming up ways to help you niggas die quicker
And then send that bitch 50 yards like a kicker,
Young strugglersracing the clockain't no telling when it all can end
Squeezin' a dollar from a dime when i haven't a single cent
Pockets filled with a lot of lint, not a cent
Roll the whole mountain, now i’m on the couch bent
And then send that bitch 50 yards like a kicker,
"contemplate", i wrote about her
It can fit like 50 gallons fool
I call that shit that middle school
As: they will be so surprised
Leaving 50 ton ships fucken capsized
Then let that arm & hammer, hammer it right to a lot
Going to her concert payin for tickets at 50 bucks a pop,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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