The fact that it's all bogus
By a brotha who was hopeless
And what remains from a emotionally scared fool
And hell if i'm gon tell him, now shut up and play it cool
Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates
They killed hip hop dead, but ill save the remains
In my throat remains a lump,
I’m trifling, damn right ignorant
But my name remains even tho i changed
I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate
Patron black, uh, patron jones
And nasty remains and bones
Middle finger missing so i can not give a fuck
I gather the remains no waste and savour all the blood,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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