The fourth one, i like to kick around
You a bitch, i send you to the pound,
Loc’s on, chucks low, black beanie dogpatron top wash straight from the liquor store
Winding up left next to the back door after a fight that left your muscles tore
I do not know how that dead body got inside of my trunk
Ima take a minute to sit back and pause a second
Watch them hoesall you niggas out therebeware these lyin ass scandalous bitches
There's a cut, turn around sit on the ground while i pound on your face with
And if my mother answer, i'll ask her
On the mic i fight till death i'm a sick fighter
I smoke a fat pound of grass and fall on my ass
On the phone. 10 years he got, chasin' that cash
Something wicked this way comemore than an adversary i'm very quick
They got off, and started to smite, i dodged, heartened to fight, armed with a mic
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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