They can't find success, like a foreigner whose mapping
And fuck the fat lady, it's over when all the kids sing
I shoot hollows at those whose souls are hollow and keep my livin room full of brown bottles
Tryin to torture em to tell, i'm gettin mailbut ain't nobody sayin much, the same old nuts
Sent from a heart that has been broken.
Make them more insecure when they caught one
Rack city, rack city she need a shovel
Whose writing better when your raps are more terrible
They getting deals with thier weak buzz
Formed from a broken promise,
If you believe then you can achieve
A keen fiend with obscene dreams
Seven years old in my heart, so i'm stayin' gold
But he is still 16 years old a young guy whose raps are mold
Just like a priest whose preaching on high
Sniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry
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