And i drop top off in a hot cold
Then those bitches who grew old.
You was to young a 18 year old
All this paper i fold
Iceman to your face i'm not talking hockey.
Busta-ass motherfuckers tried to flee
And blast through the game, 'till i'm old but i'm still here,
She shift my gears and whispered in my ear
Small, but you talkin' big
Your girl calls it hockey stick
Gonna slap you with this hockey stick,
Stuck her toungue out, flirted, played with his dick
Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed
These faces and places are growing old,
Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead
Not like in the good old days when you looked up at me an said
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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