At twenty eight i'll have plenty of taste
Cause i’m going out with a fist raised
One two three four five six seven eight nine
Rock an ap and a rolly, at the same damn time
"here's my address, meet you at my place at eight"
We both teenagers with the same mind state
I was only eight when mamma had to move to amsterdam
Ben baller, six bottles, talk with such expensive slang
Lost my mother wen i was barley eight
Honey is always the one i'mma call late
Your bitch only like you cause she thinks you getting paid
I'll be outta cum before im twenty eight
You're level two i'm level eight we don't equate
No days off is time gone, trying to get my paper straight
I'm gettin discouraged with her
Eight full rounds of birthdays, a first grader
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