Fuck letting up, I'm up too high now/ Year old clothes, but son I'm fly now/ Made too many kites, they stay won't tied down/ I'd speak about rap, but I'd just sigh now/ I'm twenty three years, but I sound like I'm 4-O/ It's Sherlock Crock, in "Where Did The Real Go?"/Faking optimism, like maybe there's still hope/ But truth be told, it's the kids that I feel fo/ I'm saying, it used to mean more right/ Nows it's but a shell like a flag with torn stripe/ Hand me the pistol, I'ma rock her to sleep/ Hear her last words, "I'm bringing Crocker with me/ Have a lil scuffle, watch her jostle with me/ Try as she might she not toppling T/ As she lay in my arms, she tried coddling me/ And with her last breath, said the problem was me/
I Hate Rappers/
Word To Pack FM/
I Hate Rappers/ They sad as sin/
I Hate Rappers/
They a tad too dim/
And with my ink pen/ I'ma tattoo them/
I Hate You Rappers/
You fucking suck/
I Hate You Rappers/
You fucking suck/
I Hate You Rappers/
You fucking suck/
Like to cut out your tounge
And put it next to your lungs/
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