Your mother was a baby boomer i fucked her on a table at hooters and passed her to my shooters
Of town,we were quick to invade,now my lyrics getting bare airplay,im already smart my birds
Did i even have a plan? now it feels like my life's passed
Box logo hoodies and goodies from buddies that understand
And word i blew off herb i grew
I shit on you fag, with a giant poo
Slowly round me gathers a crowd
There must be another route, way out
Fam 2s me a blem, dishonor on the jakes
Trying to shake, the crates and fakes and snakes
Cause fab said he looked like a fag at mayweather's pad
Hit yo ho with a muthafuckin baseball bat
Still move on that time has passed
They could never understand
Hang ya up like a fag, hag, crack flag
So now i’m under pressure i want it bad
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