As she goes through the levels
Blood and cuts, ifs and buts
Cause 2012 might not be a fucking legend
And remember what i said and
You're rhymes are as straight as a bowl fill of skittles
Took her to the club bought her three more bottles
You way some fucking kilotons, fuck sweets, its donuts
Oh how she love the gangstas, they love them green ones
No, i ain't, glazed donuts for luncheon, on my plate.
A million home sellers couldn't find a realer state
Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,
I been laughed at, hated on, no one would even play my songs
I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last
Slice and slash, bite and gnash, bite and mash, fight and smash,
And nasty remains and bones
And we crazy, homes
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