Not pussy weed money bullshit, my life through pain
Po-po wanna pick his brain, ho's wanna give him brain
That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free
I started selling weed, didn't had a choice, needed to get money
A country in power
He went from moving that corner
Nigga i dont spend my money on weed i keep my bands up
Miami bound with my d.c. chick and we let it fly when we in the club
My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet
And methodists got money, baptists suck, roll the weed,
Now im thinking rapping weed, rapping weed
I mean eddie murphy, swang, gettin' married
Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
And maybe one day his kids, something that he'll live for
Showing my lyrical skill and lyrical power,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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