Tuckin' heat in dungarees and overalls, the free lunch,
Pessimistic we are, carry odds like luggage
So they just keep going, saying nigga in his face
Lunch times at school, the closest bet like wayne in this phrase/
Cops called dad, tellin him at school i was actin bad,
They say, trojans never break but it ain't that
It's cool cause the radio don't do much
Its lunch you bitches still eating brunch,
Because this man was murdered, he wasn't out for lunch
Streets is calling square niggas leave a message
People give a bad fuckin' rap to old-school southern rap,
Thats the end of my speech, i'm a need you to clap
And if that means that i'm askin for too much
Im a nice guy with a spice of hate just for lunch
Ill eat your rhymes for brunch, and shit the lines before lunch,
Though i'm chasing dreams i don't ever care for sleeping much
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