Fighting with my weak hand
Im testin the pray x3 (fast)
I feel like i got fifty cars
Heard the sound of several gun shots
That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,
We don't want you with skinny legs and the big ass ass shots
Trying to move foward, though it never stops
I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars
You can keep the fast cars, i just want a level head
That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette
My bars are hard 'n' fast
Two white cups and i got that drank
So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots
Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars
When bret hart meet brett farve
Got like a hundred cars
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