Friday, February 5, 2010

Hope.

My baby can rap steady, your baby can't even walk steady.
My baby packs heat, your baby packs meat.
My baby got the kood, your baby ain't even on solid food.
Stepping up the game, my baby claims fame while your baby sits dumbfounded,
'cos when the shine from my babies nine glistens,
your baby's crib got Do Not Cross tape around it.

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