So call the coroner or the mortician for the the
Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina
I'm a platter full of odds and ends,
Stop it, i'm hearin' the comments
Tryna make the perfect odds like he got a fetish
Catch me rolling with kelly or at the hilton with paris
Metaphor, chilling with better whores
The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.
Like in 8 mile/defy the odds/
Heard the sound of several gun shots
Tell me who's as rad as us and the answer was
And the docs are at odds with any self sabotage
And they ain’t fucking with the kid like chris hansen in the kitchen
Odds stacked against me like ten to one,i've never been the one
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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