I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents
I get through it cause the matter descends
The man who made me follow things through.
Mama ain't raise no fool, true
I've made it in the building
There'd still be niggas out killing
Hey mr. coach, i don't like you
I have almost made it through,
In your ears as i kiss ya, on every curveslow down baby don't rush, i like it slow
But bravo you made it, you lost the battle and made people believe that you got polio
But then it caught on fire
Took the van, went snatch her
I spit lyrical fire, through each empirical wire
Type of chick that only dress in something that’s designer
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