The art of war
Once a whore never more,
Hit the club and i let it fly, claim you balling nigga telling lies
People dying all day homicide suicide its just the role of life,
I say it’s your world, cole world to be exact
My rhymes, new york states of minds, lyrical crimes, in fact
I got a penny in my pocket, million in the trunk
Take my pen once again, never get discouraged
I'm gettin' tired of moderating and fightin' the crimes,
Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live
To all the painful wounds i salt on all the victims of my crimes,
Money got me excited, i’m coming four or five times
Master of homicide crimes, but never once fined
Its been a long summer, and i've been on my grind
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