Eating my soul just like cancer,
Got your whore doing shit that's uncalled for
But now i got a problem with that little white rock
I picture a happy day at the pizza shop
I'd like to treat you to a faygo and a slice of pizza
I got that good stroke, come be my mona lisa
Im eating you alive like chips ahoy
And that's word to my nigga bad boy
Usually i scare my victims before i go and do my eating
If not i'm hoping that this letter could convey how i'm feeling
So i'm gonna keep making, smoking and eating,
Its easy on tv make them believe what they be seeing
Like a diabetic eating cream puffs
And finally, everyone got their own problems
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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