You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass
Your fuckin’ neighborhood doesn’t determine your social class,
So chase the air hide your stash
Along with the whole class
Mc'ing ain't dead, but the scenery is different
After class in class rooms with a hint of disgust
Buy some french fries, then i get high
Hear the rambling in the sky
You dress like a french maid or maybe a naughty nurse
Is probably filled with some other niggas numbers
Those mainstream commercials won't know the lower class,
That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last
Lord i'm so focused more focused than i ever been
You're gonna have to pardon my french, mr. englishman
I been smokin' that mary jane way after class(way after class)
We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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