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Rated: 13+ · Lyrics · Experience · #2019341
Speed poem
When I scored my batch, twenty twenties in my pocket,
now I got zero twenties, and no reason here to lock it.
Tele-run to the kid "motha fucka better stock it!"
Turn around, not the kid, it's a killa and he cocked it!
Jettin out, stop and think, I'm so high up in the cockpit,
trippin out super hard, tell myself I gotta stop it,
check my watch, flip a notch, I'm at work I gotta mop it.
Clockin out, walkin home, see a fence I gotta hop it,
reachin in, pull em out, gotta handful lemme pop it.
Go insane, get arrested, lock me up now because im on it.
Word.

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