I m not making u feel that u r my dear...
My pistol close in handconvinced this is my year
But anyway, give me cash fag, cause i'm low on gas
I guess it's up to me to take out the trash
I be on some other shit
I messed up i guess, i will admit
Better yet they work my every nerve
At 16 years old,i`m bettter than these haters
I can say ghettoest ‘cause i come from where metal spit
I guess i just grew up too quick,went through to much shit
I m gonna fuck u hard and fast like i m in a race
Cause all you got now is too much room space, shoe space
Celebrate the very day that i get past
But i guess it's the skill of a well made up tramp.
I'd rather do business than pleasure
Shit, i also messed up your conjecture
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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