Please... twerk twerk, let that ass work,
My shirt, purple label my shirt
I'm acting brand new, let me check my schedule
Churches searching for the pockets of the poor
After this eighth be high like out of middle school
People label me as soft, emotional and poor
I represent the desperation of the poor
Odd future young enough to get your priest mouth drool
My life, screw it with a drunk bitch
I'm not poor but i'm not rich/
Take a shot at the excorcist then x em out with these words
Grew up poor, still poor but by american standards
You'll never be late for work
No rubber sole, hardwood bastard
They need work, the freaks here makes their knees work
Next to it: stash mattress. under it: cash, bastard
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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