Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
More props. r.i.p., my poor pops
We're young and we don't give a fuck
But ya mouth's a god damn slut,
I feel like i got fifty cars
The you should look up in the stars
Got police chasen meto my niggas from old blocks
Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars
And she throws up whatever she eats
You rap about selling weed and money schemes
I started selling weed, didn't had a choice, needed to get money
And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree
And maybe i am but
Oh, did i scare you, slut?
But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",
To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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