Yeah ain't that what the song say
Commanding things to be my way
Birkin' baby, go merk 'em baby
His high is still really short to me
Have a toast for tha homiessee we both gotta die
He sighed, then started to cry, his voice got kinda high.
Luchador like i been masked but still remain fly
And normally, i'd try to end this fucked shit on a high.
His high is still really short to me
On they twitter writing novels, see
I want to live my way
So they taught me to spray
You can pick apart my raps, i ain’t told ya na’ lie
Get 420 to rhyme wicked lines while he's at home getting high
They gon tell you that's a lie, lie, lie
Be careful, they want us to stay drunk and high!
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