This is a song about "Three little birds"

Bitch, they call it motor city

Fuck, i was number three,

Sitting here spitting these words talking to birds

You hear the words coming from my lips bastards

Outside i hear girls, birds chiming as well.

And bad bitches give me head and tell

Higher than the sky, where all the birds have flew.

We use cakes to get by, by the dudes in blue

Take a shot at the excorcist then x em out with these words

She like dudes whit lotto money from flippin lotta birds

Yo man bars part number three

I got bigger problems baby

Bun b, i’m underground king

Like those birds i'll keep flapping

Dc, man over money

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