Straight bad bitches i run, through
Ill slice the head off all you
I'm about to rip the head off this little fuckin bitch
But what we did was found our niche and made a stitch
Makes no sense but my two cents are dispensed off the head with no structure
Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger
Walk like i'm drunk, swagga so uhgodyard trunks go around i got a bunch
I'll fuckin slice your tit off with a meat cleaver and stab you in the head so much
Ya’ll be highly obliged when i drop my shit
Fuck im coming off the dome with it
But with only the pain in my head
So if i do call it's just a check
Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag
Find the body rip off the head and put it in my nap sack
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