| Laced up in chucks, 27 waist on her gut
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| Mason jars to place her bud so when she blazes a blunt
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| There’s an abundant amount to place in her cup
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| Tucks it in tight, licks at the lip, and raises it up
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| This ain’t for the love of money, this for the resurrection
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| On this tobacco leaf, ain’t from the factory
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| All agricultural product rolled rapidly and manually
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| Not of irregular behavior when I’m capturing casualties
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| Who be asking to battle me, geez
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| Did I fuck up ya motion? |
| substance suppressing act
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| Now you dealing with emotion
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| Appealing a motion on the most evident material noted
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| I’m not here to judge you, I’m just the public official
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| Appointed, wrote it…
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| Now raise up ya joints, to bitches who be heavy on the scale
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| Ask for more raise in her points, like she recently got a raise
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| In her coins, ain’t fucking with men so she erasing the boys
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| Sort of like when she is playing The Voids
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| Windbreaker honey stomping bunnies at the bus stop
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| What’s not to love about this soldier with the sun spot jonez
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| Black Castle princess, surrounded by the wild animal type like the mid west
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| Large cannibal fight in an instant, she starts their suicide
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| With a syndrome in a mid sec, like a nicotine stick in they system
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| Walking around lit for a minute, watching her hours click in her limit
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| Deciding what pray she’s gonna inflict in a second, sickening image
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| Split interference, envious bitch trippin' and shit
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| Handling her business ain’t ever been an issue and shit
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| She snatched the belly by the beast, she necked it ear to ear
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| Then she said goodbye to niece. |
| Peace, love
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| Ain’t nothin' against the deep slug in ya piece, dove
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| Snipped you at yo' wings cus.
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| Ain’t a reason… like a pryo lit them trees son
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| And like some pyros lit them trees son
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| Uh, yea. |