I'm everything that they call nice
My already fucked up life
Fuck that nigga, i am the party
My mom and pops didn't want me
And i'm blowing up like bitches we went to school with
My life is almost as fucked up as your mind is.
Your wrists don't glist, get the pots out baby
Well, wait; won’t my mom get mad at me?
It's me and my crew up there, but maybe a couple others,
Probably fuck up your budget, yea, i’m playing with numbers
We gettin’ chicken but these skinny models wan’ eat
Dougie fresh up in the hood and he's bringing me my weed
Hook me up to a chair and watch as my brains fry,
See you gotta get high or die, cause even thugs cry
I shoot you and kill ya homie, with the same damn nine
But me and my mom poor all at the very same time
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