All these mixed feeling about my siblings,
Have you with professional killas, chasing hits
A wise nigga told me don’t chase that cash
Just because you said my shit was trash,
Yeah this shit got me feelin' like useless trash
On the phone. 10 years he got, chasin' that cash
And 53 percent of whites are just seen as "gutter trash",
I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass
She seen that geechi shit, ain't been to church since
All these mixed feeling about my siblings,
Mixed cocktails, shaken not stirred
It's a fools fatewithout your word
In the caravan with some latin bitches
Rhymes mixed with sharpness easily off this
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