My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks
Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs
And pray for better days
Weed and rapping weed in jays
Nowadays, people only rap in two ways, money, bitches. my wishes is that this
The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages
They get mad when i lay up in the porsche box
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
Pussy, money weed is the current policy
They giving me pounds and thats of course getting money
And not a single feature except lil wayne
Not pussy weed money bullshit, my life through pain
Put up and smoke that weed,
Outstanding clout, what up greg street
If you see a bad bitch in the passenger seat
Bitches fiend, cut in half like the laced weed,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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