We can fuck up our brains
For the occasion, paper planes
And the governor couldn’t give one fuck
We bursting doors like we just showed up
I get my cake; i love hip hop
We'll fuck up everything we got,
We should be up in anarchy
Once as a slave who imagined being free
I'm babe ruth in this game, beige coupe in the lane
Too much pressure stacked up, giving my brain pain,
Cuz when we fail we pull up a chair,
You got a baby boy or girl in there
My repents are stacked up like needle pins
Bout some, but never put out the stout guns
But i'd just rather 2-step, like my first steps
We fight then we have make up sex
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