On our way home talking bout my lie daddys little lawyer
I used to fiend for your sister, but never went up in her
So bitches hate to do me like it's convict community service
If you think imma furnish my space with worthless little verses
But you see my little one,
Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun
My name is little c
And its simple as that baby
My little brother could rap better than you
When i get to warwick avenue
Escobar season begins, so let the semis ring
Flow my sold little blister like a flames pond rippling...
I had a little stress stuck in my mind,
Hoes gossip while the real niggas on the grind
Do have my own little tricks
They gettin chips, they flippin bricks
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