Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that
That regs shit, i don't fuck around with, fuck those mids, only puff the loud shit
With an impending mixtape that only seems like a myth
I really shouldn't be here now- i don't fuck the heathen bitches
I hate bitches snitches stab them with syringes throw em in ditches and holes fuck hoes/
I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows
I got three bad bitches, with some green we chillin on the scene,
If i don’t make it, then somebody tell my son screen
Living in a box full of cuyahoga booze, and listen
Appy pressure like a sticker, fuck bitches with precision
By the little camera thing on the fuckin' mac book
Fuxk the nines the eight next the seven i only fuck girls who look
I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts
I only know the underground is filled with all the warring lords,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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