Fuckin' squirrel, bet his girl still buy the tape though
I making money everywhere i go
Not pussy weed money bullshit, my life through pain
Can't control the box, you are no mills lane
Compared to "them" you're making baby money
Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see
And all that time with your friends put my momentum on decline
And im too fucking pussy its another flaw in my design
Throwing money up and making it rain/
And i make music for the fuck of it, no fame
My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet
Making money and living it swell just isnt cheap
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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