Flying so high, air traffic controllers giving teezy fines
They were niggas quite similar to pitching the lines
They vaguely decipher my language
And to this day slaughterhouse, poison arrow bunch,
Traffic was tight hit the breaks right,
Three times cause fate had my side
And they drummin' on the hollow buckets, show ain't over 'til it's bravo
And stick a arrow in the back of the bus thats how you finish a combo
Unlike them other niggas, i got itt la-di-da-di, welcome to my house party
You saved me takin a arrow to the knee but i still stung like a little bee.
Shit's a traffic jam, and we bomb pakistan with gats in hand,
And in my mind's eye i see this place, the players go in fast
Apparentally it make you argue morethe more things you throw
My dick was an arrow i fucked her so hard and she called me a wacko
Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks
Are fine, so many guns being smuggled in traffic jams,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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