I make my old bitch buy me all the latest shoes
To let this girl be, try and let it diffuse,
Let em marinate, you forever late
And that was when i was in the eighth grade
Now let the angels sing
Money ain't a thing
Why you call me back? don't lie
So let the bullets fly......
Until i started to lose my way
Don't let the verbal tommy spray,
I wouldn't let it happen
Two reflections into one
Dig, these niggas is fake joe
You just gotta let it go
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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