Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree
I make food for the family, go back to insanity
I’m a bad boy, bitch, ask puff, sip ciroc its my last cup
I wish that rap would go back to the days of pac and biggie but
Be the little kid crying on the bench
I speak english but check my french
It gives us peace then all in the town is quiet
(it dont matter they just go back to the old whip)
Go home back to yo mommy and whimper
But is you trynna be dinner
Flyer then the rest of them, still got my nike boots
I call all my troops to go back to the hip-hop roots,
So i grab her by the hands and hold her down to the bench
Fuckin' with my people well that's called the heath ledge
Hey hey, you got me feeling like the greatest
I go back to the time when i just chilled,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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