I'm slaughtering stale, competition, i got the whole block wishing
And i have to say that music keeps me here, by far, the main thing
I'm slaughtering stale, competition, i got the whole block wishing
So, suicide i perceive, before i slide on that ring
In fact most of all of us insist it bitch
I'm gon' make a pretty big sandwich
Presidential suite and bitch, i never use my right to vote
You couldn't step in the zone if i wrote directions on a post-it note
And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brainarguements with my boo is true
All she good at is suck in dick and talk in shit, watch out bitch cause you
A few niggas talk but they do without knowledge
It was all too obvious you sick bitch
We ain't playing for rings and that trophy i mention before, i let em keep
Pulled in more directions than intersections, avoiding collisions, weak
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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