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(Cookin Soul) God bless my soul I'm a sinner The path to righteousness is thinner I was beating with many stripes, far more than I like to remember My life is like a wild adventure Cops tried to pinch us, n***as piled up in my mama's Sentra I had the 9 with the condenser Your T go from white to magenta When them shots enter Hit you and left your body bent up (n***a twisted) You know the chain of command if it's for dollars then we can prolly link up But otherwise it's unlikely my n***a I'm not to be taken lightly I'm a silent killеr Do me a solid, come suck what's behind thе zipper I steer the ship, ma, I'm the skipper I don't fish, I'm more Guy Fisher but just a bit richer There's no magician that could trick us No roost no chickens could spook us we ain't superstitious I'm witcha b*t*h in the booth in the Ruth Chris kissing We slid in the back door and walked through the kitchen Ass so fat, this sh*t had me tripping like tryna stick Rod Strickland My aura glisten, I shot the bull with the stick from long distance And went off the grid to chill just like a baller with a torn meniscus I still never slip with all this water dripping, knocked the game up, it was more than just morning sickness I hit the floor to beg for the lord's forgiveness, I done lost my discipline, I'm tempted Listen, kid, I'm still on that pimp sh*t My shooter's like Larry Bird he from Port-au-Prince he not from French Lick sh*t is intrinsic, my n***as kill, that's how we build friendships Til then your membership's pending Pinky ring with the diamond pendant swinging I'm in a european speeding up and down Linden
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