In the country , in the villages , in the earth and universe
Perfection doesn't exist if it doesn't consume her and the truth hurts
So i'm a take that rubber off, i wouldn't mind having babies
With corrupt leaders and those overseers in the coca fields,
I'm in high rhymes schools your're in third
No rubber sole, hardwood bastard
Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works
In the country , in the villages , in the earth and universe
Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans
Become a coach designer of body bags and coca leaves
Young nigga with old spirit and ambition
In a private jet while i'm walking in
Be it spoken sugarcoated or zero coca coke, you're still just livin', dreaded fodder
Jealousy inside, make'em wish i diedoh my lord, tell me what i'm livin' for
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