So call the coroner or the mortician for the the
Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla
Ironically it subs like a hero
Enter the building through the window
Reminisce the times and the laughter
Wolf gang be on that wrist split splatter
In the heat of the summer,
I’ll never use a rubber
Baby, let me give you a call
Where the ball meets the wall
I ain't worried bout shitbitch i'm the shit
Got the passion for the music
Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere
You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air
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