Leave your running to your mamma,
I try to tell them i'm one of the
In some fucking yellow skinnies looking like a fucking faggot
Worse comes when my bandaged language leaves me more caged; snap! i screwed it
You'll get lost in your thoughts as if i spoke a different language
Though i'm chasing dreams i don't ever care for sleeping much
Your body's right as rain
Blood stain, your slain, your brain
Bi-lingual so pig latin is about to be my new third language
No coach bag if i go with that, snake skin tote that cobra clutch
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
Penncounting pennys over tha years
Of language will suggest if they're hard and they own the throne,
Late night to the early morn, i been such a rolling stone
Of your image, your touch, your laugh
Stack in his hand trynna make that last
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