I thought i was out atlanta, but god damn i'm outta space
Gone with out a trace when i deliver coup de grace
Honestly i could run this world better, be a better captain.
I could spend a whole damn advance on some kicks and some pants son
You cross dress like oscar de hoya, your life's a cock fest
Roll the whole mountain, now i’m on the couch bent
I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood
World on my shoulders as i run back to this my childhood
Motor city's gritty, clowns like you get bent and then de-stroyed
Cause i got a lot of hair on my booty but that's beside the point
But i murder him first
"how money running this world?!"
Without her making attempts to garner all of my attention
They want the money and the power that's just the world we living in,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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