| Ayo, mass produced soma
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| For the last recluse noma
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| Woke up out a fact induced coma
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| Attributes lacking tooths, amass the cytoma
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| Manure stinking whore, who bask in my aroma
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| 9 to 5 sperm donor, enough to earn my quota
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| Liotta laugh, odor coming from my lack of bath
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| I used to shark a lot, now I shark way more
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| Seldom getting played, just only what I pay for
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| Switch the decor, spruce your living space up
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| The one who found the food, so dude I’m giving grace up
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| Won’t land in my hand, was stranded from the pay cut
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| So wake up, like my lass caked up
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| Wish it was the money but I’m referencing the makeup
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| Knishes in my tummy plus some mescaline to break up, A-cup
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| Table leg jean skirt, supreme earth
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| Never worry 'bout a seam burst, worse
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| For the wenches who wrench off
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| You gotta get the stench off
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| Check it, ladies throwing disrespect upon this, Adonis
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| Usually they darker hair with some extensions that are blondish
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| And the yellow armpits
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| With the smoker fingernail looking like she been infected with the jaundice
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| Neglected and promised by who she thought was a decent man
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| And always falling for the recent scam
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| Stays with a case of spam
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| Over active sebaceous glands, you could use her face to grease the pan
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| Damn, the Telly sweet where the vapors flee
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| Smelly feet plus the deli meat drapery
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| A slew of crack hoes complacent as some scolers?
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| Who keep the chewing tobacco adjacent to the molar
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| It ain’t over, yo Matter Fact will increase your stock
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| Copped himself a bottle of Jack and a decent smock
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| Learn how to please the flock
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| Until then he got the password to the brothel plus the secret knock
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| For the wenches who wrench off
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| You gotta get the stench off |