Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold
Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,
Miami nights, it was all a dream
Raps and beats and rhyme scheme,
Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,
As my name get bigger this game get different
And don't ever (and don't ever)
The plight of a rapper or whatever
, iffy and pitiful , shitty and beautiful,
Don't fuck around and make it truemy adversaries crumble
But we still real brothers
And their mothers and fathers
And now that i’m getting money
And a fridge and some broccoli
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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