Spit selvage my nigga, it's in my jeans
Government changed my life to the streets
It's burning slow, even though life on the streets kinda cold
Seven years old in my heart, so i'm stayin' gold
I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds
The cia would plot to sell the crack, and flooded the streets,
I like a down-lookin, all for it, flower bomb
All he wanted was the fame and good life to carry on
Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,
Best believe i'm leaving with more of those
For all the killas and the 100 dollar hoes
Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes
Niggas taking shots, don’t know how to aim
Even with the money and the fame
And i'm still hurtin over pops
Fuck them hoes and the cops
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