Its a war with the enemy
I run for the money
I deserve a medal, i lap 'em every track
I'll terrorize the cul-de-sac, rappers, i ain't holding back,
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
They want the money and the power that's just the world we living in,
So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation
Still a hobbit and like sauron's eye, you'll taste de foot
A couple milli in the bag and my face good
We left em a world that's cursed
"how money running this world?!"
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