Lucky seven probably poppa
Leave your running to your mamma,
That don’t mean i’ma stunt her
Your on fire.. your on fire
But fuck that, cindi was my dope fiend motherwelfare checks never stepped through the front door
Notice me for who i am, going headstrong as a determined ram. no capacity for
And there's little to be glad for
Your eyes it's my paradise, your
Shove your head up your butt til ya see your own guts
Far from alarmed, i just part wit my problems
Black fours red drop head doors
My gun your scars, your wrist your calls
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