Like all the stuff that i hate was about to inflate
The audience lovin’ him cuz most of them can relate
I spitting bars the metronome the money machine
People laugh at the intelligence, seem to be mean
You in to that animal stuff
Then i said i had enough
Trying to be powerful like the romans and gods of greeks
Giving niggas the piece of mind to put it to beats
Then the blood drip on the floor poison pieces
Im true to my word and spit real stuff
Kush, baby mama-less; yeah no seeds
Tricks keep the stuff and hate creeps
We the motherfucking best, word to my mama
See people to be leaving the cold medina
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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