In the country , in the villages , in the earth and universe
Perfection doesn't exist if it doesn't consume her and the truth hurts
Fuck, clean up on aisle six
They built the pyramids.
That portray women as objects, as hoes and gold diggers,
Ridin' with rats you niggas should be in glass slippers
Love the game know this is coming from a different place
I thought i was out a-town, but god damn i'm outta space
In my perverse universe
Talking about the god you serve
Poppa took the television, but left the radio
I know that cars and gold bars can bring in bitches and dough,
Women are a piece of art god gave us to admire
We can talk things over a little a while
Stayed behind the bars of the prison, farthest from cars n' the women insane at best
All fifty seein visions of me shot in the chestcouldn't rest, nah nigga i was stressed
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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