Orts ill deep throat your mum with a polo and make it taste menthol
You ain't' doing shit til you put 10 gees on fantasy football
That you cant beat me, go ask your mum, to buy you a pair of these skills, son
And movin' you moanin', music on the counter in the kitchen
I'm so corrupt i fucked your mom and she paid me.
Got some pocket change too, now ya workin' baby
But i will still give your mum my drops of cum
And you down, hold it down for my nigga them
Complexion from heaven don't be bleaching your shit
Your mum is a bitch your dad's a maggot
By the way, hotel room number 218, yup that's the place i fucked his mum in
So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation
Your mum dont want to kiss you she might get rabies
She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice
Now let me thunder fuck your minds til you become mind fucked,
Ready to bust, in the city you don't know who to trust
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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