Sweet, okay makes sense
Tryna fuck this, no success
I treat bitches straight up, like simon says
Just for the slightest chance at success,
Flow to my heart, hit the flo' when im dying
But i'm finding grinding isn't quite like reclining
These days are numbered, so i'm finding different ways to repel 'em,
And i believe in them, a couple lames out there had beef with them
Why these broads hear my late call, start rushin' over runnin' lights
I hope that you're finding it better than some kinda redder heinz
My wondrous success bombs my regrets
Leave the keys with that bitch, jets
Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble
My potential for success, is incredible
#don's #key to shoddy success?
Baby i’mma mess, mess
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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