Interlocutor writing the message, I wait a lot of time To see your fuckin brackets, maybe you shy Maybe you're one who's gotta love To each other, I know, you don't get matter of fall You so think about another guy, why? I don't give you what you need But I know one fact that you are bitch Sometimes you call me a snitch Now on opinions I don't give a shit And you said "you split' For our relationships you spit I just generic tip, and you for live No more think
I said I don't wanna see your intentions or senses Fuck your brackets in the message I don't wanna let it go, just want to sell my records And live my life with it, cause it's my passion