Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts
Lord, you're so pretty, lying in my arms
She tell you that's a lie, lie, lie
You face made blind children cry
Dutty wine for access, show me your neck
Basically blood leaked from her head
Fly nigga couldn't tell me nothing different homes
We got soul but no control, like john rambo rippin' throats
We was loonie i suppose, you could
Cook a verse send it out hardly a look
Before she fuck with ya head
You could say i'm friends with fred
And you call this shit rape but i think that rape's fun
But your the only fish that's after the sea-men/
You're the john mccain to his robert e. lee/
Yeah got to the club early just to get in free
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