You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass
The white working class is the majority, the upper class,
I been smokin' that mary jane way after class(way after class)
Damn near look like a god damn dump truck on the back of your ass
Cooking in dexters laboratory, hoping i can tell a story
That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free
Baby, you got that super bass
Your beautiful during class
Thinking about who the fuck your nigga gone serve
Sitting in the room, on the phone, cooking up orders
You cooking for angels, always a legend, rockin heaven
And thinkin 'bout it, i'm goin and gettin another one
Crawls right down the crack of your ass
I'm just fucking round in class
I miss your cooking, and your one sided lectures
Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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