When hes coming home from jail
See i'm ahead but you stay the snail
Ill kill you with no trail, no jail,
Hit the block like a postman with mail
Yeah, tell me about the love of ours
I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars
Plus i keep it on lock, like i'm part of the jail
But if i get knocked, i ain't got no bail
In jail every 2 weeks/
Tryna kill my dreams
Haven't talked to momma since she put my dad in jail
He can finally help me masturbate and read fan mail
Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
And mine somewhere bout mars
Had i not been exposed to these things
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
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