| uhh they might not like me for this one
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| ha fuck it got my pen n pad anyway…
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| Mister Hood
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| Dear misses independent ho
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| Looking for you like my life time depending on
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| You’re a centerfold, every womans inner goal
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| To meet a nigga and his money long
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| Haters a letter to my ex ho, before i start kiss my ass. |
| EX O’s
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| Ok Let’s talk about a gold digger
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| Met her at video shoot, go figure but she was bad in the mood flicker
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| See her looking got her number see what’s up wit her
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| to make a long story short dog couple days i’m sleeping beating the kitty walls
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| Fell in love with it now we up in every mall
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| bought her first Louie bag she was so appaled
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| not a scout but she love to watch a nigga ball
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| bought her everything she had if i could recall
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| so couple months i gotta her movein in
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| they show money got me out of town
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| they got her trippin when i’m not around
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| she was moveing tryin playin me outta bounds
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| seein pictures of her and niggas because i hate to found
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| sad part was the bitch was trickin off outta the town
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| And i was too blind to see it sooner
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| knew this bitch was kind of fishy like some old tuna
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| Took her clothes n threw em in old sewer damn you shoulda really seen her face
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| then
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| She oficially on my shit list
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| She pulled up on some shock shit
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| I’m talking bags in the Front trick
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| And that words on my common sense
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| See you ain’t nothing but a has been i’m talking ashes to ashes
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| Chorus:
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| And here’s a letter to my ex’s
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| you aint' nothing but a has been
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| oh was only happy when the cash in
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| you try to play me like a band bitch
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| but i ain’t trippin 'cause your pussy kinda average
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| oh her ego bigger than her ass is
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| Man i’m so glad you’re the pass tense
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| I used to love you with the passion
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| Sincerely yours. |
| Bitches
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| Oh, dear misses independent hoes
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| Still searching like my life time depended on
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| You’re a centerfold every womans inner gold
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| to meet the nigga and his money long
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| If you ain’t got it you can carry on
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| I’m talking like the Loiue bag homes
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| No matter swag or you new calogne
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| I swear my last was a bee like a honeycomb
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| I thought we’d woulda really last long
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| we were the ones to put the money on
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| damn in the begining it was fairytale
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| I’m talkin make believe love caught in make believe
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| But that’s until i started buyin things
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| it was cool now she started wanted wedding rings
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| such a drama queen demanding all kinds of things
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| corrupted by a life she could only see the green
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| wanted kids so i can be there any means let her tell we were something,
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| like a perect team
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| damn, had a cut it she was out of order
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| try to pull me on blast like a bill boarder
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| I call her mama tryin to transport her,
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| Did you throw her out dog? |
| yeah kinda, sorta
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| She was mad so she file a restraining order
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| just to come and get a bag fill the trash house?
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| Swore to cops made me leave lily passed out
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| Hey but i end up moving back in
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| Oh my mama prego with a set of twins
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| pause
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| That’s a whole lotto settle in
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| I guess the story really never ends
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| Well here’s the letter to my ex then
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| I swear she used to be my best friend
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| Now she’s a memory from back then
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| I know she probably misses that feeling
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| Big sprees and the mutha fuckin plane trips
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| She the last on my ex list lily hada nigga stressn
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| Damn.
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| Somebody tell me what’s love
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| What’s your definition of love?
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| Is love buying one another different gifts
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| Hold up. |
| depending on the price tag
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| Is that love?
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| i mean a nigga just looking for somebody genuine too ride for. |
| i’m feeling like
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| fuck love
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| It don’t' give a damn on me anyway
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| Maybe relationships aint for me,
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| I guess its why im writing this |