I be calling out game like miles at the farms
After all that shit you still call me baby in your arms
Hold your arms cry and wallow
Wale dc said we on joe
Please correct me, stretch marks
Minus your head legs arms
Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards
And in those third world countries it's used like soviet arms,
Atomic bombs come like nations at arms
Rule had a run, couple movie parts
And stabbing this ice cube look-a-like to show you a nigga with attitude
Physical making life miserable keep smoking until dragons and tattooed
Of finding myself as an individual
Wrap my arms around you and cuddle.
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