I go to war, old timbs, battered boots
I only consider few my true dudes
That’s why i consider this golden, what i’m spilling right now,
Used to nun-chuck em, now i got to donatello bow
Consider that to be my submit,
And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit
How come i can't escape from a girl i consider a bitch?
Or fuck my enemies bitch, acting bad and getting rich
Wit me be like 50 trippy hippies and they all consider
I’m picking through the crowd tryna see a little clearer
Everyday i miss her, and one day i might consider,
The red album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her
I hope u consider this rap a roast
After every show, a dream she hold
Far as lyrical precision i'm imperial loser
That's why i consider rappad the fucken future
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