... club, we'll be actin' real nice
Of the book of your life
Out of this coviction of feelings
Jumped off the porch when i was like six
That means i wear a suit and bend the truth and feel awful
Those who wish to follow me (my ghetto gospel),
Beaches of normandy.
Looking at your money
Reaping the humans of leaps of good will
Meanin’ i don’t play ‘cause wale is ill
Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon
When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them
And by the way i'mma start
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
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