I'm always dressed up but i never slack shit
But you make my stomach do flips and i love your wit
Blasting out some backyard
From the time that you stole my heart.
With my heart most of you fuckas just fakers in the making
When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing
And certain death for us ghetto bastardswhat can we do when we're arrested, but open fire
See i'm the serial killa.and man i love my mutha.i would do anything for her.
And a kiss from you on the lips my boo would get my vision hazy
I told her this here's overrated but i love your city baby
But the fifteen credits had a nigga off track
I'm done kiss my ass take out the trash you rap fag
I be wanting your kiss
I sit and reminisce
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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