And i feared that my fans say i failed
At twenty eight i'll have plenty of taste
In that aston martin on these niggas, game time
One two three four five six seven eight nine
Eight full rounds of birthdays, a first grader
Fast forward spillin' drinks on her fur
Early adapters agree they all late
But the meg count's off half down to one twenty eight
Yeah that's right it was a cat fight. two one eight
Your bitch only like you cause she thinks you getting paid
Flash forwards then back to him in seventy eight,
That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight
We take our seats, in the first row out of eight
I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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