Now, nigga, it’s the prince
Artillery weak with guns
The 7-pick up, yukon, the range is come
Of the rebel gang captain
Gang banging with bloods and crips
A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips
And she throws up whatever she eats
You rap about selling weed and money schemes
Without the sound of guns
Guess they ran out of options
By a gang called the police
Right flows down and they might go nice
"kill this nigga, guns and weed"
She leave the bathroom with a nose bleed
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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