I don't got no time to call, hope that you ain't mad though
I'm on a death row,so death is a bitch i know
And none drum, iller than ninth wonder
Mary jane is my mother
Son of a bitch, i imagine what your father is
Go! you free to go about your business
Mary had a little lamb, it's fleece was black as coal,
Chevy filled up on petrol, times like this i just roll
There's a wussy bitch i know guess what his name is
With hugs and kisses, valentine cards and birthday wishes
As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets
Mary is a polite girl, she rarely ever peeps,
Blow my smoke out the window, dropping ashes on the bridge
This shit is a jungle, and im the king in this bitch
Now you finna cut your hair, you waiting to excel
Mary let's the lamb lead on, and everything is well,
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