Callin' these bitches cuz bitches ain't even women
Some kill for millions, i sold my soul for pennies son!
Last time i check, that was the biggest racist party
So i had to make a decision for my son and for me
Cook up and run where i'm from, the south son,
Body bad as hell, her vagina is heaven
On trial for possession of some chronic
You my son, you should thank my dick.
I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king
I'm pacing back and forth my heart rate is changing
// [but the kid is not my son]
Can’t you see just how long my run
We have nothing in common
Few days back my sister lost her son....
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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