You ain't gon find that
I wanna sip a lil bit
Yeah, rack, rack city shit
Back off before you get bit
Now you finna cut your hair, you waiting to excel
He throws up every single bit of his hell
Nevermind, i'm not going into it bit by bit
Now my eyes chinese, keep the loud lit
40's on the 20's with the stove top, i'm steady plannin',
Only fear death when you staring down a loaded gun
That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get
So don't be acting shyi run my fingers through your hairthen i lay you on the bed
We don't believe you, you need more people
It’s sick and spiteful, 2pac’s twisted grim disciple
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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