Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs
And all we lack is communication like service sucks
Good kids make bad grown ups
And get me some more drugs
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
And eat about four bowls of some frozen ice cream
Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine
Surrounded by drugs violence and sodomy
To be rich like a king, and live my life, trouble free
But now i know why drugs and alcohol
Ay yo you wonder who i are
Who live up in dark alleys, and are taking those crazy drugs,
I'm out bk with these fast girls and all my cash good i miss slow bucks
And he was married to my grandmother for money n drugs
My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks
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