Its bout time ya get to know me,
Bitch, they call it motor city
That bitch bad, looking like a bag of money
But i wanna get ya close to me
I try and try and try but always fail to get away, from my storm cloud.
She leave before the sun up, leave you something to think about
Young money, cash money so strong, keep scorin’, i’ma bring it on home
So i try to verse the worst one first before the dope ones try to steal my throne
Wanna try to get me out the game, i play to win
Snorin' in the bed with blankets cause my head spin
I shall not fear no man but godthough i walk through the valley of death
Just to try to get a piece of success, maybe just love me less,
I'm at morgan, howard, coppen, trying to find that higher knowledge
In my eyes that’s more than enough for me to steal ya bitch
Swear this closet full of heat, bitch i never need a match
Ya balls get a itch pass it to ya mother to scratch.
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