Csr

Gun-metal to the lobe, you take everything
With little discretion, you get an erection
From stripping people of the hope they wish you could give them
Your well kept facade is tearing at the seams

Your stench can be smelled all throughout the building
Counting coins as you kick her in the teeth
Racketeer by any name
Black market Ken Doll in the frontal position



Credits
Writer(s): Rorik Abram Brooks
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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