Lip balm she's some nun bitch from st. john
Raising mutants on a farm.
Bet the farm on the rhyme for the sake of my mom
Told her that her pastor was a faggot and he likes john
Left me at the farm with strangers
Half my peers, they're stretched for years
A living situation of animal farm with a learning curve
See embraces, fall short on the numb tips of street entrepeneur fingers
And louder than a microphone that's slightly near a lion's den
I cook beef on this state-farm, how are you doing? i'm mayhem!
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