That's food for thought you muthafuckas can do the dishes
Retarded bitches, making lists of boys like christmas,
I'm lyrically gifted, shit it isn't even christmas,
Two lips blowin' kisses, muah to my mistress
Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free
Rain, sleet, snow, 'bout the money
My mother raised me a single parent so it's apparent
Santa won't even give you coal for a fucking christmas present
People words are weak like some snow
That's why they can't mess up my flow
Check my letter i got christmas money,
You can never tell me that i'm not hungry
People love hodgy i hate you though
Carefully packaged with snow
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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