Слова:
Big 10 4 Smell Of Familiar

confusion or the realist illusion, It's the idea that I will feel brand new again, In a crowd of a million she's the smell of familiar, She's the hand

high class hood rat Don't want to fuck with niggas in khakis But hoe, I bet for the dough You quick to jack that ass like a 4 So quit frontin' on a

want to vote for my squad I truly believe the black man is god My family is mixed when american in yard Oh long yo yo this is my 10 40 This is for your

killed her Picked up my grip, let it slide into the holster Although most of, them niggas fear me I'm supposed to Protect my neck, if not mine then big