Wit’ some killers and everybody know who we are
Spit hot enough to make the tea steam and the kettle hotter
Leave yo brains lookin like some mushy corn flakes
I got geechi on her, came back with thirty chains
While he lobs corn on the cob up into his fat fuckin' gob
With their own versions and different shitthe same night i prayed to god
And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin
The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',
I just explode, the kettle gets so hot
I gotta know if it's real or not
The best is that which i accept and nothing less
I'm a 1,000 lbs kettle bell compressed- bomb in the flesh
Need a girl whos tryin' to ball
Playing in the corn, wake up call
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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