Talking of the gods you serve
Shaved of the face of the earth
The groups of groupies looped in the hoops of the music business,
Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was
Beat of the drum soon the rhythm of the dead.
I work hard for everything i get
I'm a victim of the money, of the cash in the hundreds,
Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips
Had a poor man swag now it’s priced right
In the face of the outside.
Left hand staggerin' on her muthafuckin' breast
Observing with a surgeons nursing vest
The things im most scared of
We don't ever make love
Huh, man of the year, the man of the... work!!!
Keep that tucked ‘fore somebody get hurt
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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