Spitting like im the true rap god, hop in my astro pod, launch, im fucking extraordinary,
I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see
Specially equities, reckon we smile
That's my style/ compile a file that launch me up a mile/
Gonna blow in your face, nuclear launch detected
Wanna stunt shit, all that new designer shit
Shoot for the moon, rocket-launch for stars/
Hoes show me love, niggas give me props
Put the racists and the ratchets on a spaceship and then launch it
I am sick of women treatin' niggas like that lotto ticket
Screw a chick, go outside and give the coupe a kiss
He's sitting in a pit of conscience, praying to launch this
And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brainarguements with my boo is true
If i don't get props for my rapping, #colons will launch the #fire #at you/
Im sayin one night my love is like that
I'll push carts just to buy a fuckin launch pad/
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