This the shit that get cripple bitches to hop
Squeak your hooters bitch, and keep your day job
At first it was my job to love you, but after this, i'm gonna retire.
I’m at the altar sayin’ my vows, to this benjamin franklin pile
My wrist is all red from the cutter
If thats your job, call me the saboteur.
I run out on the job.
It’s hip-hop, not pop
And i been all around the world
But lets put first things first
I'm just sayin' i got fuckin' problems, mama's got a job,
Your enemies was the prey and now you pray to god
A couple posites i got,even penny'll stop
I watched my ma whip up work fukk a havin a job
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