He isn't in his middle teens, his voice sounds like he's hundred
Ironin' you niggas now it's time to starch the shit
Have to move that bitch so far she need a postcard
Stockyard bards, a hundred thirty two years charred
The watch cost me 2; your bitch, free
Hundred more chicks wanna get sleazy
Two hundred years ago we should've known the gats would burst,
Need to be goin to hawaii, seein the world
Just made like a hundred grand
Spend the night with me, we'll talk and
Can't win with a passive attack
Two hundred and a year a.d
I'm with your girlfriend eating chips
Dear me, in about ten years
Got like a hundred cars
I be murdering bars
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