Spiritual, fool's gold
Plenty smoke, plenty rolled
Drink some shit, money blows,
Man i swear she's bad and she knows
Turn money into diamonds and gold
Franky lymon the lime light gets old
Run away from the cars...
Watching for hollow-tip shots
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
Left chicago with good money for 5 drops
I feel like i got fifty cars
Ya'll had your run, don't ruin ours
So i guess that's where i hide my things
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
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