In case i betray my people and master
Type of life a nigga kill or go to jail for
Once they accidentally find your collection of knives,
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock nines
Flow so sick thought he wrote the rap for him - no sir
I'm like fine art or a lyrical master,
She showed me affection like a drug dealer using her pocket for my protection
They don't care bout the economy as long as they benefit from the tax collection!
You're the servant, i'm the master.
I rush to tend her, talked as i touch her
To this collection of words that i happen to jot
I skip to places, smiling faces, while you fucking walk
I don't wanna obey the master
How the fuck a deal matter
Come talk to me i'm the chief.
Gotta go, let her leave
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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