She wants baddies that run through in the caddies
Low ridders, lean slobbing machine,
--I scream, you scream--hit ya boy Don up for more means
meaning sordid stacks (still no tax though right?)
She want 'em bad
been bad motive, been had eyes
he catch bodies dead and live like her snatcher catch flies
she like 'em hood not hood-adjacent
the only type she really play with
likes the edge, likes the barrel, never seen one, never in peril
Some blow, some stiff, some hitter, some grip--it's all there.
Norepinephrine mostly--it’s all unknown homegirl should have took her ass home
A whole new world slums, not dumb rich, she flip Donnie boy's switch
He pulls out his. A plug like this comes with risk
But she want 'em bad and like 'em bad.
Clawing at them in her french tips--
Her Thug Fetish.
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