Get a little smart, want to change yo tops
Everyone has heard of the stars
So while you worry about the hoes
I feel the coals burnin' scorchin' beneath my soles
Release the energy stored beneath
I'm everything that they call nice
So i guess that's where i hide my things
Beneath the surface of your skin like surgeons
You pull up in parking lots
Like me, when i'm shooting for the stars/
Which is the core for jealousy which lies beneath
Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys
When bret hart meet brett farve
Imma look at the stars,
Well, i’m flyin' over, literally, flyin' over cities
Sittin up in the trees, spittin "what?" to whatevers beneath
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