I'm went from god to a king, pete rose, philly,
But respect is more real, and ambition the key
Got four underneath the old-school as well
Learned to hustle from a guy named mel
Doin wild shit, lookin at the sun don't pay
I want mignon, not a mickyd's fish filet
And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit
Killin ya crew is like grenading fish in a bucket/
And kept twitching her eyes like a dead fish
Your dad's purple heart now hangs over his ashes
Then the blood drip on the floor poison pieces
You are a little tuna fish
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