Remember my guns like a mic,
And skinny jeans ain't quite the lick
Didn't make it through college, still debating my progress
Painted in light by the artist who left the chalk mess
But most times darling the sequel sucks
Packing guns, n' tackling bums.
Pocket with a cash full of bashful weapons
Equalizer funds blastin' faster than mounted guns
Get the ironlaks im spray painted spb thats all im drawing
Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king
Stuntin' for the fuck of it, i ain't with the sucka' shit
A myriad of colors other brothers, wishing the painted
See i let my nigga split that
This isn't the picture i painted.
Laughing at the picture painted out with the words
Make your bitches' therapist ask for dental records
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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