You fucking mutt, tell me, can a slut
'til a stray bullet got his lungs struck
The drug that they brain need
Sweet jesus, where's the weed
With a rosa parks state of mind, i don't give a fuck
Nigga i dont spend my money on weed i keep my bands up
Chrome lips on the forgi's damn near swallowing the street
And methodists got money, baptists suck, roll the weed,
Never can i straight face
Weed and rapping weed in jays
All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/
Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars
I step up in the spot, they get to working hard
Money, pussy, power, respect that's the shit that i want
We sometimes acknowledge the beat as from
Good luck with that mug of a mutt ya bum, you're dumb
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