And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree
Than her dad cries and says fine, and we go in the back for the after party,
The world should turn as soon as my records spin
Its leaving nothing but resent and destruction
It's supper time and i need my cheesy mac
Chat up your lookin off your knee pad
Leaving them feeling weakless and chilled
I practiced till that shit made perfect
Unlike unfiltered weed like mac miller and his liquor addiction.
You killed the nigga, i stole a bible, is that a sin
God mc oh my god you gotta see
I am the show and the after party
Over, sloppy seconds is my preference
Leaving embers of relief and remembrance
And leaving the game is basically pain inflicting
I was fiending for the meals; i ain't talking burger king
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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