As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets
Them out rapping me is like sleeping on the bong call it pipe dreams
Straight g thing, double m g thing
Tell me that you call that rapping
While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for
Walking around 5,9 but the rapping bringing me much taller
Look, i lost my nigga over nothing though
The most lowkey somebody call me pablo
They call me the finisher,
Pour out a little liquor
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