I'm looking for a hiding station and my heart is racing
And i bet you all them letters in your mailbox waiting
I'm popping champagne, drinking till i'm jumping out the window
In tongues my heart racing sweat dropping from my heated up skin i would go
But in real life they eyes is on your moneysee the enemies will say they true
Cuz your a bitch and i was trying when you left my heart traumatized and send blood to you
And pants tight please be a dyke, cuz im a freakin freakazoid its like my
True to the gamei claim outlaw riderswe give a fuck what they try
And i ran them like bases,
Perhaps it's a musti'm facin cases
You got my heart, don't tear it apart
Well in that case, brother, then love her hard
Chanel slippers on my bitches like you go love
Hit it like a baseball then skip around the bases.
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