Mr. underdog and this is not a bark
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
Instead of living this life of violent crime
I’m inclined with women who come on they time
Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that
A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred
Five shots she ready to leave
Top of my pile of bodies
Light skinned women, all sex everything
Tired of feeling wired of dealing
Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon
Yet, it is forever and a day to forgive and forget one
I like my glasses filled, as if it has to spill
Reaping the humans of leaps of good will
Not with your hand girl
Wearin' twelve sweatshirts, like earl,
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