We missed you on the charts last week, damn, that's right you wasn't there
Fuck a bottle rocket blowin smoke out in the air
Believing the screens or anything there
When they open the box and inhale the pale air.
A bunch of backstabbing niggas, hope the knife ain’t there
I'm out of here, gimme that breath of fresh air
Then why the fuck am i yellin at air
Ain't no skipper but all my bitches is ginger hair
Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,
Please, just peep the crystal method where
Everyday we live and breathe the air
I'm just sellin' my thoughts there
I said hey, you right there
With that weed in the air
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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