Contact the locksmith his locker's tick-tocking
I don't hear no talking, we just hear them barking
Folarin be ballin for all yall to see
Just tell me, tell me, tell me if u love me
Shit, six bitches in a crack-house kitchen
Shoot my ping and if you gonna listen
Keep talking, get you snatched for that scratch, clapped with the mac
I'll terrorize the cul-de-sac, rappers, i ain't holding back,
You cannot just threaten my ass while on drugs when i'm paranoid
Motor city's gritty, clowns like you get bent and then de-stroyed
I'm on a thousand islands like mcdonald's cows
Since there were drugs all around the house
But that was fiction, some coward got the story twisted
Corporate executive who doesn't give a fuck, i'm wicked,
With no problems to tell
This is heaven on hell
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