Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit
Isn't it ironic when i label 21st century songs vomit,
How is this the twenty first century
Who trill as me, roll two of tree
Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair
The point of the story is that the world is unfair
Missy eliot she beat the twentieth century
They hating, patrolling and trying to catch me riding dirty
Living in this century heavens doors aint closed but ill break and entry
And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see
My style is patent, the measures is drastic
You're goin' to hear this and begin to ride on my dick
The phrase the pays inside the streets is sharp is razor blades,
You think that we was learnin' from other rappers' mistakes
See, women are the queens, and bitches just bitches
Who the illest and what the deal is
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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