But the fifteen credits had a nigga off track
Damn, you rap shit, crying gangsters, the type of ass that
I can always go home and look down my street
All these rappers talk about is sex money and weed
We have so much in common, starting at the feet
And methodists got money, baptists suck, roll the weed,
Weed and rapping weed in jays
Slow and steady wins this race
The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its
Rap skills when i cap kills like gangsters with nap pills
On that water like islands they ain’t swimmin’ you dig
Little white gangsters, i'd call that phase ironic,
Gangsters robbin', shooting back, mama's sobbing pedals,
Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks
Who be puffin that weed
This is the concrete
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