Dreams of a better life might get me through this cruel summer/
At least i'd be stable, yeah, slightly less popular
I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see
I can't wait for summer, i might just so see a preacher, with all of them giving me anxiety
All the young motherfuckers that was took in they prime
The temp of your blood will rise, hotter than the summer time.
It's half past five and i'm the seven that six was afraid of
And we way too young to know love, maybe not but we don't need no rush
Chill son, five more minutes
The youngest of my mother kids
No ho, acquainted with the floor
And five days later, maybe more
Or something that you paid for
Spring, fall, winter, and summer
At bunker hill hot summer,
That damier bag i bought her
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