Always knew where the pot was
The things im most scared of
Tired of feeling wired of dealing
And this will be the song that we sing
Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators
You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse
Out of mind out of sight
And you're, approaching me right
On the slow jam of love
Raybands...hide the face of,
Beaches of normandy.
Cause some of you bitches funny
Furniture made of the flesh of my foes
X's and o's, you must be the rose
Jars upon jars, but yet no jam for the bread.
I say i put it so deep now she a cone head
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