Friday night this bird I’m tuning says do you what you want to me. I stick my finger up her bum whilst I’m smashing and then muck on her face. Dirty. I decorated her face like a drunk painter. Pat on my back
Sunday morning wake up wit the beef
no fun, take SNs out wit the heat
no shots, they lying, leave u lying where you sleep
section stay hot SNs bodied for cheap
the bodies stackd deep from friday ether
SNs choose squads, you dolo you a leaker
lurkers f5ing, crying at the fuckery
stay low, keep firing, duck, ya cant buck at b(fonts)
I set back and realized that shit was lame as fuck ain’t. It ain’t like niggas can catch the fade. So what’s the point? Nigga I’m off that shit. Yall niggas can have if it.
You wanna talk life, bitches, music, sports , I’m all for that, that other shit I’m good.