Trouble

• Written by 

I'm grade A you can call me Jay Gatsby,
I'm getting all the good bitches all your hoes are nasty,
I'm asthmatic cause I smoked to much weed,
It's like everytime i roll up i see the police,
And after all the drama I'm begging officer please,
Begging on my knees that there's no weed to seize,
It's not the trouble that I will get in with the law,
It's about how much money my dad will withdraw,
To get me out of jail,
And pay my fucking bail,
My momma don't wanna see her son sitting in a cell,
Well you can wish me well,
PAUSE
And push my bitch ass down the mutha fucking wishing well,
Ohhhh I said boy im cruising,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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About the Artist

floslick
Member since July 23 2015

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