Young, naive, who slits his wrists, missiles hit to cock and shoot,
Now me, stalley, and meek wanna see ross get the a-rod loot
We race foreign cars, custom models
And shoot off with vodka after whole bottles,
She tell you that's a lie, lie, lie
And shoot the fucking sky,
We been all around the world
But lets put first things first
She'll shoot at you with vocabulary
And i got a little big, keep it low key
But radio ain't trying to follow suit
Drive to your hood and start shoot
Who shoot them back at me
And losin all his money
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