You're vacant in the smarts department think i'm black hearted
Making his own fucking beats, covers, videos and all that shit
That god isn't finished with me yeti feel his hand on my brain
Cold hearted, compose art, i do it now for jesus' name,
My city cold so you hear guns shoot when ima alone,
Whenever i'm through, you already on the phone
Took me a while just to write those
Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,
For the dough you'll be like doe, stuck at home
Leave sweet, good hearted girls alone.
Flow so cold that i got that all the bitches standing in rows
And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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