I'm coming in here for a goal to rot this
Fuck 2dopeboyz, all them niggas bitches
The most that they can do is find me, i'm hiding
It keeps coming back to you, why do you keep fighting
Coming to me on the down low bout his money slim though
Poppa took the television, but left the radio
Only to stop the tears coming out your eyes
You ain’t seen nothing yet, bitch, this just my friday ice
Took my heart away from money
Coming to terms, where we can agree
And i'm coming and i'm killing to make your life depart
She bend it over, make that thing look like a work of art
{*both*} but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her
Coming home to find his whore blowing the neighbor
Cause this worlds gonna get whats coming to it
I probably would wear 'em but my dick don't fit
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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