Yo, i'm seventeen, already sniffing blow
But look, she went and dialled triple o
Once mr. woods was all good, now a nigga only
O, the o is for the oppression that's been done to me.
So he got an ache in his belly eya-eya o
I get a rush like i'm tweekin off blow
M v p like steve nash
So chase the air hide your stash
My bars is kickin' into steve urkel,been writing rhymes long as a journal
But that takes paper that we don't have so niggas put their souls up as collateral
Stir up all these feelings inside of her
Unless they o d like heath ledger
But that's what he liked her
Mother, o my mother
Well, that's what you are
Mother, o my mother!
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