Married to this rap shit, tell em' throw the rice
But you not the one of a kind,open your eyes,
We would like to call this an appreciation tape
Sick of the bait, sick of falling through the gaps in the grate!
You must have won every pageant in america when you was young
Not even in the colon, so he had to reopen the book of the woven
I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots
I'm not a child of god but i desire props
I really am the best, you may not think that because of the rest, this ain't no test
When you next to medo you wanna test me ?put your tired head on my chest
I am not the 99 percent, i am not one of the rest
Though my credits are slept, my ambition the best
Ha-ha, laughing all the way to the top
Would they mind? umm, well, of course not
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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