| I will need two forms of ID for purposes to verify your age. |
| Make sure you sign
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| that model release. |
| Because without that, I’m not gonna be able to use your
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| image of you sucking my cock
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| Check it out!
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| ILL Bill, the rap Jules Jordan, call me the hip-hop Joey Silvera
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| Brazilian bitches bang me, then let them blow me forever
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| The balls deep, but we all creeps, the pistol’s popped
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| Looking for beautiful girls like Christoph Clark
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| I need an Evil Angel in my life, waterfront property
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| More goons with guns that go to war properly
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| The projects, the gutter, I grew up in poverty
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| I’m rich now, Uncle Howie Records is a monopoly
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| Your monstrosity roll with the dream associates
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| My team is the real deal, your team is a bunch of dicks
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| We top of the pie, rock it like (???)
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| Locking It down, dropping it live and then rock it with pride
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| I been around the world, partied with all types of girls
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| From police woman and stripper with thousand pearls
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| A whole boat-load of hoes done swallowed my pole
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| But only a porno bitch can throw me out of control
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| Pussy and hard drugs, sawed-off shotguns, we God’s thugs
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| Get my cock sucked by rock groupies and pop sluts
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| Weird chicks, with big titties and pierced clits
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| Exotic dancers in love with us, the fuck you think?
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| Goretex the young wizard, my life is like a porn set
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| Drug blizzards, runaway bitches slump dead on my door step
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| Sugar momma’s got a crush on Gore
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| Fisting their ass, twisting nipples, sucking my balls
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| Tapping the bush, medium rare was mush
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| She ain’t happy unless she got pills and the arm in a tush
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| Sparking the kush, leaving off the strippers like it’s welfare
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| Hip-hop, the ligaments, I’m killing shit (we in the mix)
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| Haters obsessed, I’ll be swerving the Benz
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| My chick’s ass is so fucking fat, be hurting her legs
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| Twenty eight cadavers, but I ain’t heard from the feds
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| Uncle Howie opium den, we be repping on death
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| Stay baking, you american faggot like Clay Aiken
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| Come back and you be dancing the raves like Ave’s patients
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| Belly up, we thugging and heavy, my goons ready
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| Your skull’s a deli, my guns turn your head to confetti
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| I’m obscene
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| Enter your nightmares, challenge your dreams
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| Non-Phixion, we the most balanced of teams
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| My themes and thoughts so deep, man, it hurt when I spit
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| Sabacolypse, conscious lyricist perverted and sick
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| Converted the wig of a nationalist
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| I love them chicks on tour who like flashing their tits
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| A passionate bitch who take it in the ass or what attached to wrist
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| Them fast with the fist, a massacres of (???) and kids
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| Blast at the pigs (blaow!) cause of what they do to the people
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| I get my dick sucked while I read the Rulers of Evil
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| I flew with the eagles, swam with the sharks
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| Damage your heart, I break you down
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| Built you up as I plan for the mosh
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| Stay armed with forty women that are psyched about porn
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| Phone the biggest fucking orgy on the White House lawn
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| Force the twins to join in, have the both them to blow me |