The money trees, triple beam, the dreams of jugs,
But most times darling the sequel sucks
She can make a pimp fall in love
Palms are sweaty, i'm nervous.
Was on my grind cause times were harder than a cellar floor
Surrounded by the thirst driven sweaty messes blocking the door
At stores they feed into me gettin all sweaty and nervous
I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz
Is it the money or my marriage or media peace
My palms sweaty, the mic's slippin thru cemeteries
Temtation makes you sweaty like wax
And all she wants is to dance
True thugs, guzzle mugs, jugs, mean mugs, no hugs,
Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts
You ain't ready, i can tell cuz your hands sweaty/
Where bad bitches with bad intentions just act friendly
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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