Invent things like spaceships, diamond baguette bracelets and earn a few pay checks.
Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense
Feeling, of appealing
Boy, i’m doin’ my damn thing
Because of my constant fear of being betrayed
And a fist full of money give it to a fifth grade
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
Let me breathe hard like it was hard
Of the book of your life
Sky high, iced out paradise
They bringing me fish and chips
Out of this coviction of feelings
Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts
Looking for dangerously hot bitches and safe sex
What the fuck? that's your fucking brother? i ain't with that jerkin' shit
A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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