And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes
But then again got her period blood all up on my jeans
Give these niggas the pink slip when they appear
Suicide and self harm leaving us all to fear,
It's 14 racks, what i put on that purse
All white boys live white collar and there scholars,
Pack it up thirty minutes to the jet leaves
Cant you see the true religion jeans
As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets
Dreamed away all these right dreams, nightmares squash like tight jeans
Homie popped up with about twenty bags and
My name is christopher, landed and titled
I'm pinning notes on emcees' rooms, red all on their white walls,
Flyer than the rest of ‘em, i hold the beat to reinforce
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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