I wanted a brother my mother i told her
Don't be the problem be the answer
The ice ain't really nothing to her
In my life that i couldn't answer
I searched and i searched but i never found the answer
Real nigga no pistol to keep to shoot her
Here's the answer and the antidote:
My bitch more sophisticated cause she like to smoke
Hate the party scene but hardly means church is the answer
I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for
But you died of cancer. sometimes i call you, hoping you'll answer.
Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her
Again the questions i cannot answer,
Of impactful things one can ask for
Pop, pop bottles on all these bitches
Now would you kindly answer this
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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