
But it's cool, we rollin up the black trucks, we ridin out, first stop gon' be, that slut, fukk five stars, tell em Keys is a galaxy, the Rap game's hungry, tell em that I'm calories, I'm sneezin at these bytches, fake chickens is an allergy. I don't get gifts, nikkas put me on the salary, now who is gonna pop off, go hard, not soft, I used your last mixed tape to wipe my niece snot off. I am an infection. How you gonna stop it? I'm all up in your blood stream, no antibiotics, they like Keys drop it, I'm like naw, pop shyt. Swagger is galactic. I'm a need a rocket. If bytches are responding, then I think they shouldn't. Leave there brains more gelatinous than banana pudding

But when I did play with toys it was Nines and Glocks.
Wasn't no Polly in my pocket, I was totin' them rocks

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