The fatty pork, all hail hell's gate, dreams steamed and glorified,
This my little brother on my mother's side, our father died
Rolling with my yankees hat on
Pay dues like a hair salon
I flash smiles at the mean looks
Rolling up blunts of the christmas kush
Make the front popand hit the three wheel motion
Batting my head with a rolling pin
Rolling up' paper planes
It’s something that’s in your veins
Rolling weed and smoking it too
Bird gangs, it was birds i flew
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