I got an epidemic in ma blood called a rapping
Tryna run up on me late nights with the lights flashing
Washing these holy lands in their heathen blood,
Homie popped up with about twenty bags and
U ain't good to stand in ma face,
Say you through will all my foul ways
Wale and k'naan, they don't know is there radio
You ain't my bro no more,you are hoe
You know i be teasing, though
I not chasing no hoe
Yo hoe aint no good, her pussy is sloppy
They gon keep on watching, give em something to see
With no hope left in ma eyes
Inferior, but i'm nice
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