Couple of foreign cars that i ride, no top
He couldnt flip a pancake.. i wonder how he got the job
Bring the keys, oh my god
Hand on knob, gotta do the job
Scrilla fan, oh boy and
To get to hold your hand
Then let that arm & hammer, hammer it right to a lot
I'm just sayin' i got fuckin' problems, mama's got a job,
Please don't let me be pigeonholed in no regular job
The beggars can't borrow, the record sales drop
Aye, hold your head homie, look
And you have a job choppin' up wood!
When they give the grammy in my hand.
I’m coming back like light-skin and
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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