Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag
Everyday i'm from the ghetto, put y'all in a body bag,
In a boxing ring, swinging at the cancer but hitting the punching bag.
We ain't having ittime to tear this shit back, ghetto children kick back
How you gonna look in your son's face and turn your back
Roll up a joint we got mary in the bag
I take home billions and pay my workers eight bucks an hour,
Don't always fuck me good, i'm just too cheap to divorce her
That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see
Look at billions we've invested in our "homeland security",
You can mix 'em all together you would still be twice as bad
Don't mean to brag, but i've got the future title in the bag/
And gave you a bag of lays i hope they taste great
Wasn’t bustin’ jimmy, i’d be busy gettin’ paid
Flight back from japan, jiro sushi in a bag
Sick of hard times so i tell em to fall back
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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