Dreams of having my shit played back on popular stereo
I’m ill enough to kill cancer: baby, i’m chemo
Me im one of these anti law pigs
Nowadays usually it's his pockets
How we're out of your reach, you soured this sweet, you're the powers that be
Particularly, these bitches that's inner ugly and outer pretty
It calls for separation of the federal state and church,
Kind of chill but every now and then i get this violent urge,
If we thinking success is only measured by your money
Of corrupt government leaders and elite aristocracy,
I'm feelin' chris childs, you lookin' like kobe bryant jaw
Met the babies, giving them rules of gun law
I have limited amounts of time to fulfill my life's wishes
With an impending mixtape that only seems like a myth
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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