Make money of the poor and ill cash the check
First letter says motherfucker you're dead
Poor caveats fell in to the porker's meat melons
Everybody seems to misread every sentence
Now them silly bitches calling me like everyday
We ain't poor, ain't middle class, we're in the shade of grey,
Said fifty for a song, and they won’t leave me alone
And then maybe the poor will survive, then hold the throne,
When danielle or milan decide to fucking share
Say a prayer and hope that the poor can find health care,
The poor little words ya jotting 'n writing.
Shawty look half indian and never say a thing
So we rhyme for the hurting, poor hard working for,
My ambition is ammunition if this is war
I'm going hard for the days i was poor
I call that shit that middle school
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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