Throwin round wallets like the dude that kid cudi hit
I bash on your raps and i smash up your ass for your wack shit
And this world's mine, but the womb is hers
I'm tired of battling these wack ass rappers
Because of the feds as we pledge to let our plague spread
I can tell you're wack as fuck, and i haven't read you rap yet,
Damn, you rap shit, crying gangsters, the type of ass that
Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back
My rap fucked you harder than when your dad fucks you in the ass.
But girl you’re special like i met you in the slow class
All up in my jeans and i'm gunna' hit her with that
I'm sorry kid, but you asked for it with that lame ass rap.
Forget it its in the past memories pass i rather not rap about guns, drugs, and ass,
Cause in the dope game, niggas'll die 'fore they go broke mayneanother hustler makin' major cash
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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