| Huh, Mama used to say this when she stand above my baby crib
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| Never trust nobody that could bleed for five days and live
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| Grandma used to say that this world gon' come to a crazy end
|
| Monsters in my closet was the feds taking baby pics
|
| Daddy used to look at me like, «Who the fuck this baby is?»
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| Uncle used to say, «Your daddy just too young to raise a kid»
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| Daddy used to treat my mama like they never made a kid
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| I’m Satan’s kid, I’m Satan’s kid, I’m Satan’s kid (I'm Satan’s kid)
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| Uh, I know the tables turn like tornadoes turn
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| I know the way it turn, gotta wait your turn
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| Until you take your turn, fuck a wrong turn
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| I made the world turn, that’s a turnoff
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| I’m on every song that I turn on
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| I got it turnt up, got it turnt on
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| I’m on the turnpike, I’m 'bout to turn off
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| Weed loud as every siren they turn on
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| Bust down so bright, it’s burning
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| These diamonds so white, they German
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| Your diamonds ain’t rock, they turning
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| Cocaine white as my attorney
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| All types of guns, no type of permits
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| All types of coffins, all types of gurneys
|
| From my driveway to my front door
|
| It has been quite a journey
|
| It has been quite a journey
|
| From my driveway to my front door
|
| It has been quite a journey
|
| Huh, Mama used to say this when she stand above my baby crib
|
| Never trust nobody that could bleed for five days and live
|
| Walking on water, this a new world order
|
| These niggas out of order like a fish out of water (Huh?)
|
| I’ma shoot the chopper like a fisheye camera
|
| Yeah, I’ma keep shootin' 'til the bitch stop recordin'
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| Just don’t start shootin', I don’t feel like arguin'
|
| A real sharp, sharp shooter, I don’t miss my target
|
| And I don’t miss my thottie, I just miss my homie
|
| Long walk-in closet, I hope you feel like walkin'
|
| Uh, I know the paper burn like it ought to burn
|
| I know the paper burn for the long term
|
| I know my big concern when I toss and turn
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| I know my big concern 'bout the long term
|
| I know the paper burn like the fire burn
|
| I know it don’t burn unless I confirm
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| I’m 'bout to cross my heart and watch your heart burn
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| Crossin' me is like watching a cross burn
|
| Swag go head to shoe (Yeah)
|
| Bitch, I’m fresh as a designer, yeah
|
| Started from Ragu, made it way up to lasagna, yeah
|
| Killers come behind ya, can you say, «Murder for hire?»
|
| Sippin' on purple papaya, gitchi ya-ya, yeah
|
| Mama used to say this when she stand above my baby crib
|
| Never trust nobody that can bleed for five days and live
|
| Grandma used to say that this world gon' come to a crazy end
|
| Monsters in my closet was the feds taking baby pics
|
| Daddy used to look at me like, «Who the fuck this baby is?»
|
| Uncle used to say, «Your daddy just too young to raise a kid»
|
| Daddy used to treat my mama like they never made a kid
|
| I’m Satan’s kid, I’m Satan’s kid, I’m Satan’s kid (I'm Satan’s kid)
|
| Uh, I know the tables turn like tornadoes turn
|
| I know the way it turn, gotta wait your turn
|
| Until you take your turn, fuck a wrong turn
|
| I made the world turn, that’s a turnoff
|
| I’m on every song that I turn on
|
| I got it turnt up, got it turnt on
|
| I’m on the turnpike, I’m 'bout to turn off
|
| Weed loud as every siren they turn on
|
| Bust down so bright, it’s burning
|
| These diamonds so white, they German
|
| Your diamonds ain’t rock, they turning
|
| Cocaine white as my attorney
|
| All types of guns, no type of permits (Yeah)
|
| All types of coffins, all types of gurneys (Yeah, yeah)
|
| From my driveway to my front door (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
|
| It has been quite a journey
|
| It has been quite a journey
|
| From my driveway to my front door
|
| It has been quite a journey, nigga |