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*Cult*
by
Terrance Escobar
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Leh' do it Gang, gang-gang, gang, gang, gang, gang-gang-gang, gang, gang Leh' do it Had to run my racks up Throw that ass back baby girl back that ass up Piped up in this bitch, with my bloody That's my plasma Whoadie keep a stick ain't no jitt He might blast ya You speaking to the jury Heard you snitching, sneaky bastard Preaching to these children Bitch I feel just like a pastor Whipping foreign coupes; I'm the master Fifty chains, Mr. T No pity for these bastards Money always speak to me I need to get it faster These niggas can't compete with me You know I'm moving faster She like, " you don't speak to me" Cause' bitch you do not matter She trying to come sleep with me Can't hold her like my bladder And I'm stocked up p*ssy nigga wanna run up on me He get glocked up 12 ass lurking wanna see a nigga locked up Stayed down I been working Then them bands, yeah they popped up Chiefing on this good dope I feel just like a rasta All my niggas dreaded up they look just like some shottas Pull up we just wet it up, we look just like some mobsters Really I don't give a f*ck I'm just like my father Had to run my racks up Throw that ass back baby girl back that ass up Piped up in this bitch, with my bloody That's my plasma Whoadie keep a stick ain't no jitt He might blast ya You speaking to the jury Heard you snitching, sneaky bastard Preaching to these children Bitch I feel just like a pastor Whipping foreign coupes; I'm the master Fifty chains, Mr. T No pity for these bastards
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