Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack
You got a corny flow and some phony rap
We got money so we ball out
Fuck what y’all talkin’ about
Not relying on the light no more
But we so poor, we got no door,
Lips and show no cockyness, we got the tricks, we got the kicks, we got the
But that's a lie, so give this thug a tryi'd rather be ya nigga
I found myself losing focus at a sunday service
So fresh how we flow, everybody get their style from us
I've got the boss flow, spit progression
I make songs about shit for attention
Even when the skies is grey, and my money was low
He act like a fog cause he got that mystery flow
Just need a dope beat and bet, scotts nice, we got a cold flow and he got ice,
Temperatures risesniggas blinded by my lyrical disguise
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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