It's shady, lazy, tell me baby
Heavy weed smoker, get ounces for free
Committin' those letter crimes unpredictable like weather in july
Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry
Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free
Well you gotta know baby
Let me rideuntil i get free
I'm still just a baby
Baby mama a weed head baby barely eats
That's why i keep my pistol when i walk the streets
And i know love me baby
Do you think i'm crazy
Fuck sara lee, mrs. smith; you the pie lady
Oooohh... you've got a sin, baby
I could once again call her my baby/
Baby when i like that, i know it's crazy
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