Someone gotta be telling someone somebody is tripping
Oh wait it is, i'm past all the last factory packagers packaging,
Influences are a dime a dozen
Okay you dancing drinking on your last one
I don’t care where ya are
I'm a liar, i'm a sinner
A menace to a microphone, a lethal weapon
I don't give a fuck either like father, like son, i'm done
Slapped in factory boxes like boxers, i'm renegade,
Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate
Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her
They call you a whore, a bitch, a ho, and a stripper,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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