Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see
Pussy, money weed is the current policy
1 for the money, 2 for the bitches
Babe you know it gets no better than this
The pain still clinging to his broken frame, neck red and inflamed,
My name hold weight and you don't really keep the bar raised
Get money like trump and rappas alike
Was he stressing you, wasn’t fucking you right
And every night, believe, we gon' leave with somebody
I started selling weed, didn't had a choice, needed to get money
Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs
And all we lack is communication like service sucks
Cause lord knows, for years i triedand all the other people on my block hate your guts
Believing my genius schemes are conceiving a seamless dream of weed n' drugs
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