Drink whatever's left, kill the pussy, tombstone
Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,
Okay...you should not hate me son
And i know that you're open
Once considered a rogue, i was chilling alone
Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,
Box logo on my muthafuckin' chest
You can start calling me the best
Pianist playing with #locked #keys, calling me #cocky
You niggas comedy, i'm laughing at you probably
I hope my moms finally proud for me to be her son,
I ain't no emo nigga, i do not lean on women
Until my flesh hardened so pardon
// [but the kid is not my son]
Blue ball, who fault? mine, only cause i stick around
My son asked me to play, the shopping cart with a clown
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
You looking for tools to write and share lyrics online?
You're in luck! Get started using RapPad >