Want my best? Say "let's have it!", I'm blessed I'm the best at it. While the rest are just fake made up bitches - Jess Rabbit/
necks tatted, gun lines in they rhymes, I see a dozen every dime while I'm one of a kind/
I'm-out on the party scene, known as hiphop's Charlie Sheen, spit with the strength of two and a half men, you see me prolly scream/
Straight audacious rip mics in all places, leave a trail of dead bodies decomposed in crawl spaces/
want them big not the small faces, paid like three tenors. Broke is vexing like dorm life, trife, I re-member/ for that sweet honeysuckle of success I need a gig. Won't stop till we're known in households like beiber's wig...
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