Im back at there house now there panicking
Bobbing and weaving, spiritual hymn singing
But now im getting out and shouting till my lungs collapse
She said look ma, no hands and no darling i don't dance
Money in a bag, stones be yellow as a cat
Im a little wack but my posture is straight up my back
Now i got to go but i will be back,
Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack
But now i'm trying to think back / talk fast
Yeah talking boutbad bitch,good weed,purple drank
So now you can mourn for your fam while im back home playing cod ghosts all day,
The social workers here everydaynow brenda's gotta make her own way
But now i'm back again, going hard as hell
Nigga trying to live like hova, but well
The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks
Track every stack, now im back, and rack stacks
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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