But there is only one like maria willoughby, my mother.
Lay back, i got some money to make, motherfucker
Fif-tee /nine times till ya de-ceased/ im sick son new form of disease/
You just want jewelry and all them fuckin shopping sprees
Re-directed de-ci-sions
Fuck, clean up on aisle six
Play me for a stepping stone then, i land mine, huh
Concha de tu madre bitch don't touch my fuckin mota
So they just keep going, saying nigga in his face
Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace
And i'm indecisive when the things are light
The words brings de-lights peace is what i incite
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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