Told them i love it when bitches roll up my weed for me
Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars
Oh you a muslim now, no more dope game
Not pussy weed money bullshit, my life through pain
Nigga i dont spend my money on weed i keep my bands up
What yall niggas know about it, my kick game is world cup
Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks
Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs
I'm the most lean mean money making machine
Maintaining my modest modest as i dream
I started selling weed, didn't had a choice, needed to get money
Sometimes you go stores and buy everything that you see
I'll tell you true stories, how i coldly hold heat
Bitches fiend, cut in half like the laced weed,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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