You a game hater, and you call yourself a rolling stone,
Look, she love me from them poems, and them songs, in my zone
Just rolling around, town cause
Watching for hollow-tip shots
Succeed indeed im thief in the streets, when im with a bitch its like a fatty
And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree
Rolling up a paper, blunt wraps go to vapor, in a puff,
Gotta get back to the d, you know we finally famous
And all women who had light features, see
Sasha's daddy just rolled up another fatty
And my only fear's a wedding ring
Oh yes i kept on rolling
Life's riding on mayo, fatty kid you stay on,
Flower bomb, matter fact she on that bong
The fatty pork, all hail hell's gate, dreams steamed and glorified,
Pictures of me in my final stage you know mama cried
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