Good kids make bad grown ups
And get me some more drugs
And all we lack is communication like service sucks
Most people made of blood and organs but i'm made of drugs
But still i was a bad-kid who did alcohol and drugs.
Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks
And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream
Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine
Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks
Most people made of blood and organs but i'm made of drugs
Surrounded by drugs violence and sodomy
I just want somebody i can see
Money, drugs, and power rule the world,
Long as she come to me first
Money drugs and women seem to be the only the the radio can play! (*white noise sound*)
Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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