Just to go to liv on a sunday
I'm patrick smoking trees with bob, spongy
Cause there could never be peace
And i couldn't even grieve,
They swore that i was all fuckin' nuts like a gay porn
Now yu alone cuz she gone, no time to grieve or mourn,
Chop you up in the basement like my name was patrick bateman
I'm tryna find life's meaning up in this patron
Get a piece of pussy then take my niggas to shop
Tryin to find ya boy big patrick and turn ya prince to a frog.
Patrick...the main attraction bitch
They vaguely decipher my language
Rat n im arrested, snitch yull receive a disease fucked n grieve hiv rubber please?
Two middle fingers for the police if a nigga get killed no rat no cheese
Yet now it is for your graces we grieve...
Like being garbage some type of disease
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