Began slow now i can write rhymes line after line
Just a couple niggas in a boxcar that bitch go lime
Can you faggots keep up line for line
I spit murder, every bar is a crime
Cause i'm now, livin' this life with foolproof doubts
Look how we going to get out of this cook house
It cook up imagination to generations of our nation
I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win
It was just fate cause it wasn't my time
I perfect every line
We love for a while then a light goes
So i proposed that we cook her on a stove,
Now cook me a meal, gordon
I need to free them
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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