Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms
I'll probably re-visit those old shotgun homes and trailer parks,
And their mothers and fathers
Half my peers, they're stretched for years
Slice and slash, bite and gnash, bite and mash, fight and smash,
So while she up in vip pourin' merlot in the glass
Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold
Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,
I don't care what it did to them
And get it again and again
Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards
If you wanna be the first to drive mini stars to parks
This is something different
And remember what i said and
But with a rosa parks state of mind, i don't give a fuck
Street fighter ho, she had that tiger upper cut
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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