Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round
Money drugs and women seem to be the only the the radio can play! (*white noise sound*)
To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes
But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",
Yeah, tell me about the love of ours
Whiskey cigars and fast cars?
Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars
We drive around in million dollar sports cars
Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,
You done put two of america's most wanted in the same
Electric chair i don't deserve the fun
And they only talk about women
They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,
They disregard me, i guess they all got egos
Half my peers, they're stretched for years
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
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