Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free
Beaches of normandy.
Out of this coviction of feelings
To see me and my chicks in dkny kicks
And the articles of confederation did not last; the constitution came in
So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation
So i guess that's where i hide my things
King of the va, off of those toxins.
Ma want me to go find a wife
Of the book of your life
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
Hoes pop from the corda to hope park
No rubber sole, hardwood bastard
Of being of always getting wired
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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