I'm just sayin' i got fuckin' problems, mama's got a job,
Picture that and they ain't fire not a single shot
Then i switched the grill on the chevy, got a nose job
I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not
He gets a great paying job and moves back to his hometown
Barely breathin tryin to keep from gettin shot down
He couldnt flip a pancake.. i wonder how he got the job
Go take the "p" out, put a "w", you'll see what i got
Hair weave killer had on louie's in my mug shot
In control of everyone, that's got to be a fun job
I was wondering maybe
You have no job, just lazy.
I run out on the job.
There must be a god
Exhibitions that's exponentially great//
And i could see you coming home after work late
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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