Washing dishes as a kid and maybe getting a tip.
I'm waking up with something 20-something fly shit
But every other part of you make me wanna depart and
He's acting like he knows poverty with that cake in his hand
To get to hold your hand
Follow your heart you’ll make that fast
Washing dishes and polar bear splitting
I was born to do the damn thing
Stackin' plaques, platinum tracks with crack and gats in hand,
That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last
Out with the homies, cuz shorty wanna be a thug
Washing these holy lands in their heathen blood,
I just write that right by a mic stand
So rest in peace in my hand
Ridin' in that es with my nefertiti queen
Slid across the floor and flew right into a washing machine
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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