All i heard was a few pouts, i think they were the hollywood bash
You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass
2am on a sunday night
Them people see my good side
So i take the opportunity to bash a skull in brutally
That flies me to places, with spaceships, that don't need money
Or a sunday fry x4
Sweet, okay makes sense
Pray every sunday, go to work every monday/
And i promised myself i wouldn't tell you this shit today
If i bomb on saturday you know she flea by sunday
I'm the burger king, i gotta have it my way
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