Sicker and quicker and thicker are deing of the fixable issues
Im not sad or blue im fucking black and red dude rip a rapper up like old news
I opened my drawer today and it had all her stuff.
Together all the timethought it was true love
And much good stuff like homemade ice cream
I got a dollar and a dream
Hoping that nobody don't notice
Im true to my word and spit real stuff
Its what i feel and think i've earned.
Like hit it in the morning, yeah, cole world
Let me drug you up and put different things in you
By killing cops and selling drugs,but what can you do?
Sick of hard times so i tell em to fall back
Or if it doesn't get props, comments and stuff like that
Two whips, six tattoos, no kids
They say he's a dead dad and it's,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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