This is a song about "Recovery"

Fuck fame, fuck money

False recovery, i can't be

How to fix this, need a mechanic/ if only recovery was automatic/

Shakin' like it's parkinsons from the clitoris of kelly clarkson's dick

Blasting recovery, windows down, so your buddies dash, my buddies laugh

So while i hold this bottle of ciroc with a hand full of ass

Blasting recovery, windows down, so your buddies dash, my buddies laugh

Talk much shit cause i never had shiti could remember being whupped in class

You're trying to raise 2 bad kids on your ownand there's no way i can pay you back

If they think i'm a make a fucking sequel to recovery, how lovely to think that,

And you don’t understand my slang my colloquial’s lovely

If i was in a different position would i still need recovery?

Imagine them trapped in confinries,waving through windows,peeking for recovery n

Notice everything it wasn't. realizing why it shouldn't ever be again

So nigga listen you can probably learn a lesson perhaps

I'll storm down blundering muttering "recovery" cause there is no chance,