She's the third this week and i haven't stopped for gas
I could spend my whole life tryna get cash
And squeeze automatics after they fill the chamber,
The red album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her
Fuck you if you feelin' different
Through tracks, tombs, gas moons encircled
And me, cool & dre gettin' high like planes
So step inside my chamber aimed for pearly gates
Aw fuck all this cuz of a poor sculpted gun chamber
Shout out to mid-majors, who forget what they major
Stuntin' for the fuck of it, i ain't with the sucka' shit
The gun cocked i said show it,the chamber, open it,
O -line down my throat fast! like im pumpin gas!
Brains off the chain, smart mouth with a dumb ass
And still got my nike boots
Make him inhale the gas fumes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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