Bitch don´t fuck with me, i´ll murder you that´s for free.
It ain't personalstrictly business, baby
But i dont hear anyone else complaining,
You know that love is a very serious thing
Your raps don"t even rhyme!
Westside, bitch i run mine
Then i vomit on your t shirt like it's mom's spaghetti
They gon keep on watching, give em something to see
I wouldn´t diss my own mum,
Car seats got screens in them
First one to spot you and i ain't telling nobody
E to the t, r-o-i then add another t
By anyone lisnting to the words i composed
I ain't tricking but they see you as a pot of gold
None of them wouldn`t understand the message i deliver
Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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