This the district where politicians is fucking goons
With pop tunes that costume our doomed slewed truths
I was hyper because i didn't get attention from my real pops
Fair skin like cream in genie jar but mouth spillin' wind like loony arse
Bitches tend to love a nigga with the most money
Like my tunes light a bong rap a song gradually
Every afternoon after school crank the tunes and wait for the moon
Yeah, them niggas spittin' while i'm dishing out a typhoon
And i'll tell you, baby, it was easy
Do you want some tunes i like it freaky
I go to war, old timbs, battered boots
Zylo-sylo, blowin' like missiles tunes,
I'ma try to rhyme and get through, i'm documenting the truth
Let me kill em in a second when i’m makin the best tunes,
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