The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,
Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack
Just a little nigga
I bring the heat like the
You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air
And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care
Thinkin of the the dreams
Ass shots in her seven jeans
To win today would just seem like a lavish dream
We all the same the blacks the whites the something in between
'fore you love you a nigga, try loving your kids
Surface to purge me worthless, whether pure fits
Here's the answer and the antidote:
Trying to shower with soap, roaches all in the soap
You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes
I'm determined to purge you, we'll call it a verbalist cleanse.
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