Of being pour with no ambitions, house the size of a kitchen.
Lyrical pictures, they used to have a windowless vision
Look how we going to get out of this cook house
I got a thousand bitches, i'm not too good with vows
Set the house up like toast,with a tank of gasoline
Got a pocket full of cream, my moccasin's clean
My house was commandeered, i'm all out of dough
Yeah, work, fuck you niggas, pay me though
Cause i got caught up in the scenewondering what would happen to this
But once established we living lavish, like the house of versi, paris,
I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds
Still the pain recites at it's own heights, heard from all levels of the house
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
The man of the house came out and said he shot you in the head
The next day i chilled at a friend's house party and he played ny state of mind
I give up my light like an interracial couple wit a child
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