I like to ask the bad bitches if they ass is real
Who got mass appeal,and have homos like you for meal
Yeah, that ain't you love, you can't fool love
Bread in pain yet told to be tough
Preparing for the harvest. your body's carcass,
The critics are calling me conscious
Don juanin' when i'm in a foreign
Now cook me a meal, gordon
I won't to share my music like jesus broke bread
But my crib was straight ahead, shorty gave me head
Way that i describe it, prescribe a nigga medicine
Life is sweet, so sweet i need a shot of insulon (insulin)
Is it a corn row or a fro
Graduated from rosé, addicted to blow
All she thinking bout is how to take his last
Whats the reason man, bad apples spoiled this mango plant
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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