Bored, so i'm packin' bowls / faster than the hands of an average joe
My other capo in this big-ass.. conglomerate called death row
The food made by your hands had a blessing of its own
Fuck the source, i'm on cover of rolling stone
Mama always told me i’d be famous
I'm the type of kid that always mocks love,
Nibblin' on ya ear, she love that teasin' stuff
Thats enough lost in lust of the love
We getting money, you can face the facts
Blessed to teach the work of god through my bloody hands
Gotta love the smell of that burning tree,
What the fuck i look like, saying i'm sorry
Now the only guidance that i had is splattered on cement
Coz the money of is in the hands of the president
Cross the land deliver messages of love no embargo
You know your son a asshole, but i hope you got those stacks though
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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