Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing
But i know that me's the shit and myself and i are agreeing
We can never be friends
I'm a mob by myself/
I lost hope almost roped myself
Wish i could shed all these tears
Roll up niggas be like sex
Im all about myself
Nigga with too much to say, you might make a fool of yourself
I know i can't kill myself so i run and punch the shelf
She got grove st. on replay
Tell myself everyday
I need to fucking find myself,
Monday through monday we be cashing checks
I'd fucking murder myself!
Sweet, okay makes sense
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