I inclined the bastard / to fight or i will use my knifes 'n' daggers
Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,
Now all i want is more my little pony toys to play wit
Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions
This shits nuts, inclined but the signs worsen/ trying to lift up your minds curtains
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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