You listenin' to her is leaving you with empty nights
With a trail of dead mic's cause these wack cats get stopped like red lights.
With synthetics and leaving behind a trail of prosthetics and medics
It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks
And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era
Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the
He can finally help me masturbate and read fan mail
I nail this scale, don't need a paved road, i can make my own trail/
I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for
Burn rubber, trail of fire prior to gas and a lighter,
And be the last nigga left, then i'll be ghost
Don't follow the trail of gold or you will be controlled
Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin
A trail of tears to hell will be your condemnation
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