In a malcolm x shirt chillin' with the ku klux
Drivin' my impala and selling drugs
That mean im overflowin all you rappin niggas in cups
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.
And all we lack is communication like service sucks
Money come and money go still money problems addin up
Miami bound with my d.c. chick and we let it fly when we in the club
Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts
And get me some more drugs
Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round
Money drugs and women seem to be the only the the radio can play! (*white noise sound*)
Fuck it, odd future some nazis, black nazis don't copy
And i'm all out of money cause i bought drugs for some party,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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