That dirt path that gets dust in my eyes
I'm everything that they call nice
Cuz i got better things to do then rap with you, got my own path
Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands
Disrespect him in my mind for the path he chose,
And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes
But when it’s all said and done i’mma be ahead of them
My path is tight 'n chosen, the fabric of life firmly woven
I, own guns, got my own arms dealer
I ain't talkative neither
On everything i own, i'll make it on my own
For the dough you'll be like doe, stuck at home
Controling my steamknowing my team to deserve more
Blocking my path, flying through glass. soon, i'm landing on the floor
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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