Metaphor, chilling with better whores
I 'll just stick ta hate songs
You ll still be a prize winner
Got the perfect plan to help me get her
So high i’m on the ceiling baby
If you don’t recognize, you gon’ see
I'm tryna follow money, she tryna fall in love
I''ll serve you like a waiter even if we go paperless
Through these opticals see you//
And all the shit you went through
Bitch don´t fuck with me, i´ll murder you that´s for free.
Got some pocket change too, now ya workin' baby
Looking at your money
But y can't you fucking see
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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