Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
Sb nike's, with the grey box
Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
When hes coming home from jail
My mom broke but she posted the bail
Up all night with college hoes, edibles and bong hits
It’s an endless cycle, of drugs and violence,
Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,
Don’t want nothing from a nigga; he all kinds of lame
They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,
Best believe i'm leaving with more of those
When i kill'em dead i go to jail,
You can ask los, i was like a young gale
Just like that... wale
Your father sits in jail
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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