As i lie and cheat my way to the american dream
All my niggas is winning, shout out to charlie sheen
And you are you too, but bitch i'm three
On the brink of war, shit's bout to get gory/
Forget these troubles, war raging in the streets
So either you dont believe in a nigga dreams
//this song is dedicated to the american lower class
You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass
If we gonna last more, i gotta ask for more
Its the last prime to death, and we screaming out war
Summer time, different shore
Will i ever win the war
He should of never fucked around with a sick ass nigga like methey call my name out and niggas run
Miley came in like a wrecking ball, i came in like an american nuclear explosion, the rhyme version,
And my weed man should just sell flutes
The holy war, the spiritual troops
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