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letra de plat docs - nico z

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i met a bad broad, black fit with some plat docs
hot red hair same color as the match box
stunning and she told me she only into dad bods

she said, i think she love you but it′s only cus ur tats
girl holdup i’m more than that
yes i got nice clothes, fitted stay on the wraps
made some money off of music pockets loaded in cash
push the pedal to the asphalt we smoking and laughing
ever since a youngin i was bout that lovey dovey sh-t
no discussion, imma bust a nut in her rib
make her think she my one and only forever go other endeavors
leave her traumatized and lonely as sh-t
she call me a b-tch
i get equipped with a mic and a pen and pad
culture vultures following trends, i made amends with the past
realized i′m staying sober, while on a trip to kilua-kona
k!lled half the bottle, and noticed maybe i was the problem
i know that deep down i’m just addicted, attaching a tad too quickly
i’m hoping that she don′t miss me
cus if she did the chances are id prolly go back to simpin
and sippin whiskey at four in the morning
these women they just be basic and boring
no disrespect to stacy i′m playing her like a fiddle
my vices consisting of instrumentals over some riddles
your comments are detrimental
my commas the fundamental for leveling my mental
release the dog out the kennel

mr mcguiver, the thousand liver, the doctor unaliver
the one to cut you open inject your spine with some poison
i checked your vitals, they f-cking vial, i’m heading down a spiral
we psychopathic and joyous lemme loosen the dial
i′m chopping up wit dis filipina
her demeanor was meaner than a pack of hyaenas
blocking signals, she told me come over baby i need some pleasing
i focused up on my breathing
faster my heart is beating
choked that b-tch till she wheezing

f-ck your two sense i’ll give u nickel five, a couple rhymes of mine
i′ll grab the f-cking gat and blow my brains across the tiles
fine, i’m in this state of mind where i can redefine my misery
searching for another soul just look at what you did to me
back to the subject in hand, i′m breathing the o is like a snapper
sometimes it feels like i’m losing it
like what does it even matter
f-cking had it, i’m coming after the game leave it plastered
mix and master my craft and cut the sample wit daggers
over cluttered with the baggage up in my attic
saying i treated u better than your last well i had it
the constant verbal abuse
and the longing to get the views makes me vomit you f-cking groupie
i′m honestly always saying apologies nothing new
probably never knew cus you party get on the news
caught up ain′t say the truth
got incarcerated and getting intoxicated
you losing the battle you turning blue
trashing most of your youth
i was off of the shrooms had an interview with my use bout my problems i had few
on the floor and grew my pineal
threw the pills out my dresser
nothing more than a dozen uppers
a couple of colored b-ttons
and possibly a bottle of jin n juice

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