I think my fam is key, cuz my momma believed in me,
Everybody watching while you touching real money
These wack bars imprison me like i'm raised in a cell,
So she sees sex as a way of leaving hell
She say this shit for college, i told her drop her a prada
Pimpin' this shit up, hittin' ho's, yet respect for my momma.
Ripples ripple, riffle signals like raised pistols,
Took her to the club bought her three more bottles
Raised catholic so i can bless this
And i can't help but notice
Via niggas rep spreading speeches through the city
Raised in the streets , so i tell them mesa made me.
Get a bottle of ciroc and take a chopper to the party
I've raised a flame filled guillotine, just please...remember me
Graves teh rippers raised scythe sharp like michael myers
Yeah, uh, where's the love for the sixteen writers
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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