When the depth chart came, there was no me there
Spinning like my many rims through the air,
It’s me and my nigga there until i’m a millionaire
Some sort of sensual magic can crackle through the air
Yessir... momma looking puerto rican and she got the best hair
Standing on the chair ready to kick and dangle in air.
I'm running out of air
It's how we put it there
Please, just peep the crystal method where
Everyday we live and breathe the air
It's justice for all but 90 percent unfair
Got our middle fingers in the air,
Creepin up on you fell me,cold air.
They tryin to say that i don't care
A bunch of backstabbing niggas, hope the knife ain’t there
Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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