Walk into my room thinking how to make moves
He was just accostumed to the custom suits/
Why go enclose a dyke gangster, custom manure
She pray to god every night hoping that he'll mature
Afterwards she asks for a custom freestyle flowing
When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing
Six hundred sixty-six, leave it for the tip
Iced rims, custom ish, sounding like a fatter whip
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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