See me, i’d rather cut let ya body give birth
Sitting in the room, on the phone, cooking up orders
We must, be the flyest of southerner men
I don't even talk to them on the phone again
Jacking off to buffering vids of asher roth eating apple sauce
So just pocket your phone, i don't even care if you smash it, just turn it off.
So is dr. j and moses malone
I miss hearing your voice over the phone
It's like i'm an alien who alienates by the herd, so as far as being heard
Told to leave no stone unturned, what happens if i never get big and discovered
'til a stray bullet got his lungs struck
If you like what we doing speak the fuck up
I fought back, now my parents are on the phone
Girlfriends, groupies, then i'm all alone
Far away from home
Stop blowin up my phone
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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