After the club, gettin you open
// [but the kid is not my son]
So the ones eye has freak don't run
Cough up a lung where i'm from, the south son,
My all gold rolly or the
I'm the bastard son of a
Then you put fertilizer, lyin, spread the shit around
Or step son your style is unwanted step son put the mic down
In the t.dot i'm a soldier with ranks
That's your opinion, son, i'm giving the facts
Stray away bullet streaks off the lips son
Jason keaton, i can only imagine
About my son growing up without the best mom ever mentioned.
Fuck around and pay your rent lets go in my car and fake the tint
Americans have nothing on the weapons i be testing son
As i read every word that you write, i can only imagine
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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