I worried if i'd pass that, but i raised the bar, and this time kills,
Soon as para finite will paralyze her existence
Gotta be something for me write this
Them boys be talking ’bout their bitches
Lost a couple friends, cool; nigga made a lot of fans
But fuck that, i aint bout to miss my fucking chance
And i'm bout my business, them pesos what i did get
My d & p frizest, they haven't seen the streets yet
And i aint gotta worry bout that nigga tryna harm me
If we thinking success is only measured by your money
And, i aint talking bout the paper kind
Fine young man with an old man mind
I aint comparing them cos dis aint my department!
You wasn't fin' to dress all crazy no more and
Then the bitch get lock jawwe on top like toupeshat to the back, with 2 braids
Nowadays i reminisce on when all i worried bout was grades/
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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