You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate
I go to just take one and i end up like having eight
Yea i’m on that ball shit, boy you with that soft shit
Music's always been a true friend, and it got me through it,
Im done, hopefully you now know im the one son of the true rap god, sent in a heavenly pod,
She blushed, the clothes came off, and i bust heri'm up now, ready to get drunk on the block
Cycles," "you're no michael jackson, i'm having
You keep praying on your break, i hope you got a sling
For four hundred plus yearsyou should be scared
You were an amazing best friend
You suck yo its true bro, i'll tell you one last time muthafucka lay low!
You know your son a asshole, but i hope you got those stacks though
I spaz in true speech one relapse and ya naps get thrown thru out these streets/
I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds
Im starving for blood my friend
Thought we’d be together ’till the end
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