Fat sack of knives in the passenger side, bitch
Young money young money yeah we getting rich
Here i go again, searching for love
In your case that'd be like four horses.
You bull shit, look
Towards my young childhood
Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes
I stand alone against the forces of clones on the horses of drones
Pacing, racing on this track like horses, nigga, place ya bets,
Everybody coming home deserve a white benz
Baby, you know who you are
And peace to this young warrior,
To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes
I’m playing my hand and riding the iron horses and trains,
Keep in mind we were so young
Grown men never should bite their tongue
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