Your family, your friends,
To increase my ends
150 on my chain
Blood stain, your slain, your brain
Just put your hand on the glass
Of your image, your touch, your laugh
My friends said you wasn't cute.
I must go like fly route
My gun your scars, your wrist your calls
It ain't gon' be no back and forth
Your "disses" are cute, don't say it with such puppy eyes trying to make a dispute
I got somethin' to prove and i got nothin' to lose, so to all y'all fat critics stuck in a loop,
Pockets morbidly obese, i'll be tourin for loot
Vimy ridge. uhh ohh. the germ's got 30 to 45,000 men. oh that's cute.
I can teach you all the sounds of love
Freezing your nose, your eyes, your corneas,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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