The city streets - bars, clubbing and cars rushing at sickly speeds
On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets
I hated, some ritalin, some white socks
And it is to drive in all these fancy cars
I don't care about the nice cars and shoes with the leather,
Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her
Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.
That's why i keep my pistol when i walk the streets
My momma taught me never steal and never tell on folks
They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,
Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops
My magma hot bars race between the lines like a squad of cop cars
And your readin my bars
And i'm still hurtin over pops
Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
Who fly? i'm a red eye with eye drops
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