Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms
Spanglish, taylor, jamie, my ranking and yugioh trading cards
Call me a product of my own damn hood
Here's my account, son, of why i rap so good,
It’s hip-hop, not pop
So stay fuck about my block.
To y'all minds i'm like a uk clock
I'm that nigga on the block
But the fucking bank account, any any any amount
Not into diamonds i'm shining just to get geechied out
Hot bars to enter train me, and a platform to express me
Last time i check, that was the biggest racist party
Now i'm trapped in a life that you managed to destroy,
But not the numbers i makeload up that wild boy
I'm talking first place, ten stacks in your account
I've got nothin' to worry about
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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