Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto
And just maybe i will go easy on you little ( g ), cause your raps are ( o ), made my comp blow
Got the fridgedest temperature on my wrist again
Rotten bodies piled up, goners or followers men
Cause men lie, women lie
I be ballin, they wonder why
Inferior, but i'm nice
A mind made of feces,
She made my mind swirl/my heart started to twirl/when she rocked my world
I know it's hard but who does god choose to go through it worst
How is it that little nigga like me made it too my dreams
Your bitch is a hood bitch you can find up in these streets
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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