Rich hypocrites permit war on foreign lands
We getting money, you can face the facts
Are my words really so foreign and impossible to fathom?
I’ll catch my breath a little, money alright where i’m from
You're not usin' your brain
Bitch, am on dat cocaine
In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes
They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,
We never tattle, let god handle that
Youve had niqqas since and im cool wit dat
Influencing your decisions i can't even get a minute
That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,
I got that goodman game
Bitch, am on dat cocaine
Like 40 scores of foreign wars i bring the bombs
Can't see his son shine like the four tops
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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