All he wanted was the fame and good life to carry on
As: i’m layin’ in the cut waitin’ for your mom
I can make music that makes sense, but not meant to be stable
To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table
Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live
He's hanging by his fingers at the edge of a cliff
Somberly, i stand safely on the edge of a steep cliff
I’m so 100 with every nigga i run with
Dont push me cause im close to the edge
You getting money? better check my french
The snitch on the block be running for his life
Because i see right through your disguise
A known liar if u didnt notice the oxymoron then ur prolly a jolly moron
All the while the thin line i was walking on would dip lower below the edge barely hanging on,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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