Of the book of your life
What we gotta do to survive
Right flows down and they might go nice
Top of my pile of bodies
Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free
Beaches of normandy.
I know my calling's worth like phone card
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai
Where did my time go? i let it fly
My shirt, purple label my shirt
Of being of always getting wired
Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential
O.f. is the coldest thing, and i'm the fuckin' general
Most of y'all drop quick cause of impatience,
Flowerbomb, let me guess your favorite fragrance
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