Don't worry bout a thang baby
Sometimes all i see is the bright blue tree
A military mind mean money
Like an apple from a tree
The people ain't got shoes for they feet, or food to eat
Put you on my dinner plate,bitch you sweet
While im bout to, go blow tree
I'm on i-80 though with my baby
All around i got these hoes that lust for my pipe
Studio fifty four if we get the props right
There's too much of slime stuck in my life
Pussy and patron that's some great advice
Fuck, your a comedian, im gone, your red
Cause i ain't know for who or what the fuck to get
Covered the room in splattered red,
I respect that you don't know yet
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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