I'm finna break this blunt down and burn me up one
Shit, come down, its not that much of a suprise son!
Sick twisted prick, sick sadistic son of a biscuit
Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit
Lord knows that four door fit eight women
Its a home run, your domes done, go home son
Branded a son of middle-class folk,
Ain't nothin funny, fuck a joke
Of a beautiful, heaven sent, and because it is relevant, bitch.
You just don't like what i'm doing, the lyrics twitter my image
Ya'll sum bitch niggaz a bunch of fags
We getting money, you can face the facts
Said "one day you're going to be a man son"
+big daddy+, no +kane+, get the job done
You made me wanna
I'm the bastard son of a
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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