Baby i am professional
Souls reaped with a studded sickle
The mainstream is selling out, giving their bodies and souls,
Kicking flows, pockets about as thick as strippers on poles
Probly from selling or doing drugs
Stack up your funds like a million bucks
It's the rise of the reaper, collecting lost souls,
I take tokes while you little niggas take notes
But along only schemes they was selling us,
Pay him some attention, he's smart and he's genius
But my reality is all of your inner souls
In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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