My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet
Everyone follow me in this bitch you wrote this high on weed
Imma make this rap go high by magic
Aye jay, 8 grand skins gonna take that
Til he started killing no more dealin too high for that now.
Never tell em bend over i just make em’ take a bow
It's for the high crime rates for all that gang bang violence,
Have you with professional killas, chasing hits
Keep your eyes open, i can only say i'll try
Who da fuck this guy, poppin while i'm this high
The battery packs and any bitch you ever kiss
I'm high as fuck and i didn't call for all this
And normally, i'd try to end this fucked shit on a high.
Die motherfuckin die, hope yo' ass fry, don't ask why
This is my high rap, you cant even touch my high stacks.
Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks
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