The kings get killed very least overthrown
Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,
I'm definitely in a class of my own
Like that drop out who created my phone
I miss hearing your voice over the phone
Drink whatever's left, kill the pussy, tombstone
Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,
Gets older, bolder, and cold cause he's left alone
And don't you bring your camera phone
Yeah, you can tell em i’m home
Then she gets a phone call
Know you want me to fall
And fumble every new leaf that you try to flip
With this heavenly flow bought a hell of whip
Chicken bone, not a phone, chicken bone, not a phone
Come on girl, close your eyes pretend that your home
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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