Probably fuck up your budget, yea, i’m playing with numbers
You dress like a french maid or maybe a naughty nurse
And college we gave yal that sensation…
Where god at? i need to call him
Came from humble beginnings now its nothing but ends
Going hard on the weekend with parties and friends
My flow ain't to fast and t ain't to slow, just so perfect that you could never know
Creep with methrough that immortal flowthug passion got you tremblinglike death on the row
Hit the pen and now no sinnin is the game plan
With an old style and a sold can that outran
I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz
In a hairy mess, doused with gas, light her dress with matches
A metaphor, for the insecure
You know i don't wear a rubber
Bag it-it inside that cool-cool but ima need you to filet
And a kid that eats nothing but candy won' t get tooth decay/
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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