Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol
But it never goes that way when your fucking with crys#tal
But it never rain in california unless the pistols out
Music is my form of expression, play it loud, play it loud, play it loud
The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages
Wont silent the wreckage, but sirens are stacked cages, that lack phases,
Liven every day smoking that jamaican
Until the buzz go away lets have a little fun
Big homie hov said i am close
So listen this is how it goes
Use a strap on till that pussy torn make it nice warm
And then i'll lay you down and record soft porn
Manahattan and 40/40, no 40’s but rose poured
Deal with it for now,till im on that accord.
We smoking on that strong.. hit it then im gone
Throw her slightly to the right, so dyke i'm kinda wrong
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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