My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks
She grabs a knife with her feet, cuts the tape and runs,
Hurt runs deep i have to confess it
Thus contributing to ongoing credit
So i pull the plug before it runs another bit
Guess you niggas wasn't listening, homeroom shit
It's inherited, it's runs in the family
I wear green hats because i'm fortunately lucky
With such an ugly picture in it and
Into home runs, while you run home shook and rattled
If it wasn't bad enough your labels are hoeing you
My capillaries are few and the blood runs blue
The streets in need of a king, you can tell 'em i’m home
And it runs up though their brains and relaxes in their dome,
I confessed bein' atheist, they said i was possessed
New york runs the rap game, can't tell the best?
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