Kids are making fun of me and my feelings are still not tore
I am like what happens when our guard be on his job more
I'm having dreams of his mother, taking her skin and displacing
Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king
When slick rick was spittin la-di-da-digaming the hoochies at the neighborhood block parties, i remember
Finish the job and fill my trunk with the carcass and sever whatever's gonna hang over the fender
Came into play. his friend layed out a line told him to sniff it cuz it will clear his
I'm having a frightening fit and being guided quick with the laws that im abiding with
If you never do, still niggas look at you strange
Took my items to the cash stand, and pulled out my change
And spit all over the world from on top it
Black foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit
Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun
And screamed “you think i’m doing this for fun!”
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