I'm predisposed to reap your bones
I got alotta phones
When you're fuckin' close to gettin' beat up and poppin' bones,
My momma taught me never steal and never tell on folks
This is oh so much like getting votes
Yet god #bless them, if #he'll 'front his bled bones
Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes
When you're fuckin' close to gettin' beat up and poppin' bones,
If we ain't right and always at the throats
Yet god bless them, if he'll 'front his bled bones
And nasty remains and bones
And i don't think homes
Wouldn't it be nice if the banks didn't fuck up the loans
They make me want to break my neck, all those bones.
Now for a story of broken bones
Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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