God forgive and we don't, keep my circle small you can't get in my crowd
I'm 8 ballin with your dealer and he knows my last name get the fuck out
Make the front popand hit the three wheel motion
Stuck with no friends, and so nobody knows him,
They say hip-hop's dead, i believe it's just the fans
Smashing you with wicked rhymes till' i collapse/
With deep, intricate, meticulous rhymes
Bring the battering ram where you live
With the rhymes i'm inventing,
And my only fear's a wedding ring
Who knows? they're probably tapping us with fiber optic wire,
While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for
Everyone knows not to fuck with me,
I keep that hottie, just look at her body
Rolling a double rhouse full of happiness, weed and drank
He's acting like he knows poverty with that cake in his hand
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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