Look, now roll my j tight
He commit suicide
18 year sentence with no parole
He thinks that he can control
He got you sick, he takes the mix
Nowadays usually it's his pockets
My raincoat, and gold wrappers, amen
He calls it art when he arranges them
Thinking he wont goddamnit he will
She sing, model, and dance, but can't sit still
No famous name vouch and i'm still the shit
Caus he vibes and he lies chronic
Yeahpour out a little liquor for your homies nigga
About australia he claimed he remember nothing huh?
He can split he can bend
Beach on the weekend
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