Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands
Not even let you touch me, why would i let you down my pants?/
Cause you slum dawg and i'm the millionaire
With rain pouring down her already wet hair
And please never disrespect my set
All of the hair from out my head
So i let my guard down to my beating heart
Hope all over again, we can start
Yes my hair might be blue on monday
You wanna be a star, you have ya own day
Lifestyles of the young and the broke
Stuff fake hair down the hole that you spoke,
Turtle dicks comb my hair
Park my plane right there
I was hyper because i didn't get attention from my real pops
Rag on my hair, wrap weed in vegas, rockin' vagabonds
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