Loc’s on, chucks low, black beanie dogpatron top wash straight from the liquor store
I've been fucking fronting with you since i kicked open the damn door.
Ill branch off my thoughts with you, like as if i was a tree
Once mr. woods was all good, now a nigga only
Just another product of this matrix
Sick coughs you got to burn me off like black ticks
I get to the point with my rap plots 'n' i'll toy with this fags thoughts
She so hysterical, she say my life ain't regular cause
When i was 11 got the toolie thick
Mr. polish, with a flow so sick
My inner thoughts are sacred watch the words you speak with,
Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live
Advice and scribble my thoughts with grey pens
Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense
Yal be confusing me and losing me with yal strange thoughts
Ima bosscall me ah a skinny rick rossflyer than a sworm of moths
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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