Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag
Let's head home, being left alone got old, just want the days from way back
He said you're better without him, i'm not the only fuck
From l.a. to mississippi, the south, man i just ran up,
Cough up a lung where i'm from, the south son,
Ok, black panamera, dash on a million
Where i free the people from being a colony
Now hire about street schemes, and getting blood money
That's my in the life south.
In 2 to 6 hours
When it comes to beef it becomes a talent
I'm dwarfing from the south to the north and,
Freakin' out all i see is clouds
Or reach the nunz bitch cuzz we in the south
Next thing you know i was runnin' the south
From the projects to the penthouse
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