Box car children trying to hide
And to tell you the truth i gotta ride
Bitch-made since 6th grade, he need his rope cut
Sound like applause when she shakin that butt
It's late and you stuck in my basement
I’ll kick only motherfuckers butt.
Don't make any excuses, you want to care for the children
Like oh, when i see himi live a landslide occur when deers run
Pants shitting, scared, barely even shifting, i'm as sick as fourty children
And movin' you moanin', music on the counter in the kitchen
Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done
Nail them to a cross in front of their damn children
Work straight out the kitchen
As i christen your children
And it was nothing to you but hands on my butt
What yall niggas know about it, my kick game is world cup
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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