Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns
In my mind i got these demons
So they just paint wired
Chasing them checks, nike work
Bitch-made since 6th grade, he need his rope cut
Send them niggas, they gone listen like we wired up
I'll carry him and throw him into some wired barbs
Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms
They bringing me fish and chips
Gettin to know his demons
Hot whips somethin cold on my feet
Demons torture me in my sleep
Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips
Breaking the limit, awakening my inner demons/
Odd future is children that's fucked up in they mental
Defeated, beaten by these demons in a bottle
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