Leave your running to your mamma,
Santana, zeke the kufi poppa
Fuck your bars, fuck your demons,
Well, i have a gram cupcake mix
Sethered your spine, your movement lines
And i'm on you rapper's ass like brake lights
Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.
The jiggas and the tips
Blood stain, your slain, your brain
Then lost my faith again
Blood stain, your slain, your brain
So we can live again
My gun your scars, your wrist your calls
Metaphor, chilling with better whores
Roll your eyes & talk your shit.
Razor grips, laser spit
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