Truth be told, i'm only seventeen years old, my heart is bold, i keep tryin to stay gold,
Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold
I decided to boss up, life's a bitch and i court her
Check my records, i killed every single fucking objector!
My records sell, yes sir
You wife ain't shit, we g'd her
No matter how many records we wreck and diss them,i do it for fun like exhibition
With this old half a man, yaknowhati'msayin?i ain't tryin to put you in a position
Punchline rapper what you think i make these records for?
Gorillas at the door fiends sleeping on the floor
Beetle the skin on my female that's word to cee-lo she fine
I rap just to pass time mat ta fact i used to sell records for a dime,
And torture me by forcing me to listen to records claiming they
Turnt up like everyday only question which club i'mma hit today
You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold
I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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