Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups
And he was married to my grandmother for money n drugs
And i'm all out of money cause i bought drugs for some party,
But if you took a second mr. mirror, you would see
No money, power, or drugs,
Good kids make bad grown ups
Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks
Drivin' my impala and selling drugs
And focus more on my rhymes.
I used to have a nine to five
Money drugs and women seem to be the only the the radio can play! (*white noise sound*)
Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round
Always knew where the pot was
Your emotions and focus
The money and fame coming in due time, old friends like "happy belated"
Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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