And i aint gotta worry bout that nigga tryna harm me
Lips, hips, hair drops down her back, crazy, body frame, crazy
I aint gonna kill them off/ imma let em kill themselves
I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents
You think that we was learnin' from other rappers' mistakes
Nowadays i reminisce on when all i worried bout was grades/
And, i aint talking bout the paper kind
Not them 3 girls i got to be destiny's child
Hold on..i'll catch y'all up in the next life
But what am i worried about they won't survive,
I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass
Yes, sir - thank god kinda worried 'bout my ass
This is how she want to live
Them boys be talking ’bout their bitches
Used to be at the bottom, tell ‘em it wasn’t for long
But spit them rhymes like me , couse i aint never ever wrong
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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