My nomo could be found in stores but the jersey only nomo got
Quis es, unus servi? latin, sound like i'm from camelot
And if they try to raise a coup, kill em at the roots
Walk into my room thinking how to make moves
Walkin through the streets wearin jewels, breakin niggas makin moves
And now his house is modest too, he went and forgot his roots,
No sun's let in to shine till, latin i bet then you'll be reckoned inclined to
Hoping that the material possesions can materialise to a better you
This the district where politicians is fucking goons
Refuse to even try and just go back to our roots,
Lyrics sound like a spasm, like i'm speaking latin,
Got a fuckin' blog that needs a post? i can get it done
My primary concerns are to focus on my modest roots,
But little did they know, i’m trying to change the rules
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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