Are tearin' at the system, they released dogs and streets' police,
As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets
And you just blew off like who don't care and it ain't fair cause i care.
Tell me where my soldiers at? put yo' pistols in the air
Run with ill cats, and we we kill that, with heat like shaq attack,
The best journeyacres of land and swimming pools and all that
You wake up and apparently ya pissed a couple cats off,
Jacking off to buffering vids of asher roth eating apple sauce
Memories of my nigga but he dead now
Cause i run up in them and i make their cats meow
Run with ill cats, and we we kill that, with heat like shaq attack,
Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back
But you gotta be meticulous, to get these critics and cats to bob their heads,
The possibilities endless, what to expect, i'll stop this killin spree, fuck it, who's next?
Celebrate with other dogs at the bar, and chug til ya cant no more.
While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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