I wasn't ready to make my
I mean the game been dry
Where i got to see your blood on me and when your neck went snap
Realest nigga told you that, chloe love me more than rap
But i wasn't ready to look in the mirror, but wasn't ready for my father to die,
Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry
Love to keep bakin new pies, strapin the scrapes off the side
The revolution is coming get ready to ride
80 holes in your shirt, there: your own jamaican clothes
To pour lava on your own mama and snap your thin throats
Get ready to hail to the king
I hear the people talking
But im sittin' cool ready to refrigerate
You gotta pay homage in order to get paid
Are you ready to go?
Heard that you alright though
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