But got comma’s in my statement
Who’s job is the abatement
They said im guilty, i ain't get the chance to say im not
I'm just sayin' i got fuckin' problems, mama's got a job,
Fans catch us on animal planet, tracking hoes
(keep going and you'll need another nose)
I’m sayin’ that i know, revealing them most
Sometimes i wonder what going on beneath my nose
Who's lips, who knows, a few good men who grew nose
Boogyin' with jesus and a bunch of nazi hoes
Try to focus on school, as music will never be your job,
Your enemies was the prey and now you pray to god
Top story, tiger woods be fucking all these white hoes
I got flows, for rap shows, buddha smoke through my nose,
Bitch i'm ballin' like i'm comin' off of free throws
The aroma of weed instantly fills your nose,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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