Pockets probably like fried food
Go home fuck you play a flute
As soon as i go home and close the door
Pine-green foams, they may never see the store
That's why all i want is you now
You should go home somehow
Blowing head back, bottles by the zone
Sherlock holmes, no shit, just go home
The boy will be bound to go home thinking "what did i just get involved with?"
The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages
Hit towns with coke, a .45 blue as chrome
"mike go home" as i snatch the microphone
Smoking loud, blowing down when the law ain't around
I go home with a crown and you go home with a frown
Then to be in my face asking for a rose cup
I ain't the kid you wanna go and diss when you suck
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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