Save your sweet talk for when you score Keep your Monday kisses for your glass lady I want the truth and nothing more I'm moving on, moving on you're
business I'll snatch ya pull your head out ya ass that mothafuckin stay down there til I finish If I cut ya down I'm gone make you look bad I'm gone make
season's evil horns I keep performing for the poets and philosophers But they don't know I was insane before and became popular I lose something every time I
criss on that craw Climb on a couch chick off the criss in New York I don't pop till a spend my pist on that boy But i do it again if you miss me before
